"What the fuck does that mean? Like you want to do it while she sleeps?" Billie asks me. "That's kind of fucked up."
My face flushes. "Not while she sleeps. I want her to do it to me. I'm the one who is going to be asleep."
"So you're a freak? I can get behind that," she said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. Mauve lip-gloss leaving the shape of her mouth on the glass.
The café is empty—a few wondering customers in the back. A university student with his entire Apple ecosystem spread out on the tiny table.
"What time do you get off work? Are you still coming to my party?" she asked me.
"I don't know. I'm not getting off until late. Can you pick me up?" I said.
"Again? Can't you ask for half the day off?"
"We're doing stocktaking this month. I'm knocking off late for the rest of the week," I said.
"What time then?" she asked.
"Around nine. The party doesn't start until ten. Right?"
"You'll be a fucking zombie. Are you sure you can cope with staying up this late? I don't want your body to crash or anything," she said.
I took a sip of my expresso. "This is what the coffee is for. You know. There's no need for sleep when my job gives me a discount on their coffee."
"Why don't I get a discount? I'm your best friend!"
"Because that's not the way discounts work. You're a millionaire---pay like a normal customer," I said.
"That's not something I can help. Even a millionaire appreciates a discount on their coffee from time to time," she said.
"Yeah, right."
"Hey, Kauler! Your lunch break ended three minutes ago. The stock isn't going to count itself. I know your girlfriend came to visit you today, but she's not paying your rate. Get back in that storage room," Michael yelled from the cash register.
He's the kind of supervisor who likes to pretend that we are all friends---even though he's old enough to be my uncle or something.
I get up from my seat. "Duty calls."
"I'll pick you up at nine---if that demon lets you out of the door. Do you want me to file a complaint?" she laughed.
"I'm good for now."
...
"What are you doing after work?" Michael handed me a box of brown sugar sachets. We haven't even gotten through the stack of boxes up against the wall. This was going to take forever.
The rest of our team only started later for the night shift.
"Uhm..." I ripped open the box, grabbing a handful of sachets. "I've been invited to a party. My friend is having a release party. I'm probably going to get so fucked up."
"Release party?"
"Yeah, for her new EP. I mean, you can come with me if you want. It's free to the public," I said.
"You mean your girlfriend? The one you were sitting with on your lunch break? She's a music artist? That's so cool," he said, taking the remaining sachets of sugar out of the box. "Do you think you can put in a good word for me? I've been producing some music of my own lately."
"Just come to the party and meet her yourself. She's super chill. Billie's picking me up at nine. You can drive with us if you want, talk to her about your music on the way there?" I said.
"Is that okay?"
"It's okay. And she's not my girlfriend. Jesus."
"Whatever you say, Landon."
"I hate you."
"Cute."
...
"Who's the old man?" Billie asks me when we get into her Mercedes. Her hands on the steering wheel, knuckles shining with sterling silver.
"Annoying supervisor. Remember?" I said, sitting in the backseat. "Can he sit in the front?"
"Sure," she says, assessing him over the rim of her Gucci shades.
Michael looks at me in the rearview. "I thought you said she was cool."
"She is..." I insisted, "kind of."
"Great," he said, pulling his seatbelt across his chest and securing it.
"This is Michael. He's a music producer and artist and he would like it if you listened to some of his tracks," I said, patronizing him.
"You go by the Instagram handle @palmer_rap, right? I've seen you all over my For You page this summer. Cool guy," she said to him.
"You knew who he was this whole time?"
"Yeah. I mean, I didn't want to embarrass him by asking about his music. Some people don't like being bothered while they are at their nine-to-five," she said to me.
I looked at Michael. "Why didn't you tell me about your Instagram?"
"I didn't want you to feel like I was pressuring you or something. Like I actually want to be your friend---not just because you have connections. Working a dead-end job can be isolating. It's nice to have someone to talk to sometimes," he said.
"Great: everything is sorted. We should go out for drinks sometime and discuss collaborations. Maybe a remix for next summer?" Billie said to him.
"I can make that work."
...
Eminem blasting through the drywall. Rocketing up and around the spaces in the ceiling. I can't hear anything over the music ricocheting across the house. "I'm going to be deaf when I get home," I yelled.
"This one is such a classic. Before your time, kid." Michael bobbed his head along to the music, strobe lights cutting neon lines through his face.
Billie wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me into her. Mouth on my ear. "Do you want to get something to drink?"
"What are you having?"
"Vodka? Something I'll regret later."
"Same."
She laughed into my neck, teasing the skin with her teeth. "I'll be right back."
"I thought you said she was just a friend," Michael said while we watched her disappear into the kitchen. "That didn't seem like something a friend would do."
"We hook up from time to time. What's a little fucking amongst friends?"
"Just don't get your heart broken, kid. You seem like the type to get attached," he said.
"Why would you think that about me?"
"You haven't taken your eyes off of her yet," he observed.
I looked away from the direction she disappeared. "That doesn't mean anything. We're just having fun right now."
"Right. I'm going to speak to the MC. I think I know him from somewhere. Enjoy whatever it is you have going on," he said.
I searched the crowd for Billie. She was probably still in the kitchen, speaking to the millions of people she knew. I wasn't the one with all of the connections. She was.
Nice party. Congrats on the new EP. I'm going up to your room to take a nap. I'm plastered. Bring my drink. I texted her.
...
"You should ask Michael to give you time off work," Billie whispered to me, acrylic nails combing through my hair. "Like, I'll give him recording time in the studio or something. This is ridiculous. Look at you: you can't even keep your eyes open."
I hid my face in her lap, snuggling deeper into her. Did she remember what we spoke about in the café?
"Aw, you're so sleepy. How cute." She trailed her nails over my shoulders. Down my back. Across my waist. "Like, can you even feel me touching you right now?"
Do I just keep pretending to be asleep?
"You probably can't hear me right now. Can you?" she said.
I laid still. Things like this never happened. She remembered what we spoke about...
"Like when we were talking about this in the café earlier, I was only pretending that I found it weird. Nothing with you is weird," she said. "I mean, look at you. Even just sleeping like this...you're so cute. I almost can't control myself."
She slid her fingers underneath my shirt, nails raking across my skin. Leaving hot white lines against my back. "Fuck, baby. I mean, is this really okay? Like you won't regret it when you wake up if I told you about it?"
Billie smoothed her fingers down my back and underneath the waistband of my sweatpants, grabbing fistfuls of my ass. I bucked into her. Shit!
"Are you awake?" She paused.
I remained still. What did it matter if I was actually awake? I wanted her to play the game with me. I snuggled deeper into her.
She laughed, "Oh, I see."
She kneaded my ass around my underwear, pulling the fabric away from my skin. Acrylic nails teasing my lips. I bucked into her, hissing at the burning sensation.
She groaned. "Fuck, I almost wish you were awake. The faces you're making right now, baby. You look so pretty laying on your stomach like this."
Fuck, just put it in already. My body was at her mercy and I couldn't wait anymore. I wanted her to do something. Anything!
I pushed up against her, wiggling my hole against her fingers. I was a whining mess at this point. There was no use in pretending that I was still asleep. "Fuck, Billie. Just put it inside of me already."
She chuckled, removing her hand from my sweatpants. She smoothed the hair away from my face, threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling my head back. "Hi, sleepyhead."
I whined.
She touched her open mouth to mine. "What's wrong?"
"Put it back in," I said to her. "I don't like it when you tease me."
"How long has it been since we did this? I want to savour the moment, baby. I don't get to see you like this very often," she said, lips flush against my throat.
I dug my nails into her naked thighs. "No teasing. Please."
"But it's so much better when you're begging," she insisted.
I sat up, wrapping my arms around her neck and pulling her mouth against mine. She tasted so good. I moaned, climbing into her lap. "Please."
Her hands fall to my ass, nails digging into my skin. She guided me while I grinded down on her, my wetness seeping through the crotch of my sweatpants. "How do you want it, baby?" she asked, face in my hair.
"This is fine. I like this," I whimpered, holding her to me. "You feel so good."
"Do you want to go a little faster?"
"No, I---" My legs trembled, juices squirting from my wetness. "Fuck."
"Hey, don't have all the fun," she whispered. "Can you lay on your back for me?"
She helped me out of my sweatpants and underwear, dragging her mouth down my thighs while I lay down. I jerked into her. "Oh."
She chuckled, pushing my legs apart and up over her shoulder. She gave me a cheeky smile, ice-blue eyes darkening. "Do you want to pull my hair?"
"Is that okay?"
"Why are you acting like this is our first time? It's okay if you hurt me. I like seeing you lose control of yourself," she insisted.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She ran her hand up my stomach, wrapping it loosely around my throat. Acrylic nails tickled my skin. I kissed the back of her hand. "Hey," she said. "As long as you're comfortable. Okay? Don't hold back. I want this."
"Okay."
She kissed me between my legs and I saw stars. Pulling at her hair. The sheets. Her mouth was wet and eager, lapping at my skin until I squirted into her mouth. Thighs trembling.
She curled a finger deep inside of me, massaging me until I turned away from her. Exhausted. I pushed her hand away. "Stop. Please."
"Are you okay?" She sat up, gathering me in her arms. "Was it too much?"
I hid my face in her chest, nodding. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's okay. I promise."
"No," I insisted. "I want you to feel good, too---"
"I don't want to hear it. Okay? You were perfect. You were so perfect. That's enough for me," she insisted. "I wanted to do that for you. You're not obligated to give me anything in return."
"I feel so bad," I whined.
She kissed the top of my head, pulling the sheets over our naked bodies. "Maybe next time we can really pretend I'm touching you in your sleep. Make it up to me then."
"I told Michael you're not my girlfriend," I laughed. "He probably thinks I have some unresolved crush on you."
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"