Chapter 3: Too Close For Comfort
Lex’s POV

“Anthony, you dumb fuck, you shouldn’t have done that,” I spit at him as he pulls his lips away from mine and looks at me shyly. Maybe that came out nastier than I meant it?

Then, his expression changes from one of shyness to one of-

“Come off it, you know you wanted it,” he snarls.

-oh damn, that’s definitely anger.

Maybe I should stop and think about what has taken place over the last half hour, very quickly, and have an evaluation of exactly what the hell this all means?

We walked back to my apartment. We sat in my kitchen, we moved to the couch in the living part of the room to watch television. We were watching television, and one of those old, romantic movies was on…you know, one of those Cary Grant ones. We stopped to watch that for a while, then I’m not sure what happened, but we were rolling around on the floor trying to tickle each other. His lips sort of…caught mine…and we both ignored it, and continued trying to tickle each other. Next thing I know, we’re lying perfectly still, and his lips catch mine again, except this time, they didn’t un-catch. And now we’re here, in this terribly awkward moment.

This could be such a major fuck up it’s not even funny. What the hell have I done? Should I say something?

“Get off me, Anthony,” I say, pushing on his shoulders, trying to get him off.

I get up and walk back toward the kitchen area. For whatever reason, iced tea seems like a good idea right now. Anthony follows me.

I pour two glasses of the sweet, brown liquid and hand him one jerkily, slopping some on the floor.

“Dammit,” I mumble, putting down my glass and reaching for the paper towels. I feel none, and look up. Wouldn’t you know that Robbie didn’t put more on the roll? That asshole of a brother I have.

I kick a kitchen chair over to the pantry door and stand on it to grab the paper towels. I’m too short. I still don’t reach. I look around for something else to stand on. Where does my mom keep the phone book again?

Anthony walks over and pulls me off the chair jerkily by my arm.

“Ouch,” I mumble.

“Sorry. I’ll get them,” he says. He still looks rather angry.

He tosses me the paper towels and I mop up the mess I made. Mission accomplished.

We sit at the kitchen table, glaring evilly at each other, and are quiet for a long time.

I decide I can’t take this, and slam my glass down on the table, causing more iced tea to spill. “Anthony, what the hell just happened?”

“You just made another mess,” he says.

“No, I mean before, on the floor.” Idiot.

“I don’t know.”

“Thanks, big help.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Hmmm…how about why you did that?” I ask, biting sarcasm in my voice.

“What do you mean me? You did it too!”

“Only because you started it!”

“Oh yeah, it was all me,” he rolls his eyes, and snaps “It’s kissing, you bitch, two people have to do it for it to work.”

I don’t know why, but the bitch thing really hurt. So he wants me to hurt, huh? He’ll be sorry.

I get up and walk over to him, to where he is on the other side of the table, and smile sweetly as I raise my hand. Crack.

He didn’t even see it coming. “What the bloody fuck was that for?” he yells, holding his face where my hand made contact.

“It’s for calling me a bitch.”

“Fuck off, slut,” he mumbles.

I raise my hand to slap him again, but this time he’s ready for me, and grabs my arm before I reach his face. He twists me around so I can’t move, then drags my over to the couch. “Watch the movie,” he snaps, taking a seat next to me, still holding my arms. I squirm a bit, but can’t get out of his grip.

“If you don’t let go, I’ll call Robbie,” I threaten. He looks at me.

“Go ahead, call Robbie,” he says finally.

“What?” I was expecting him to let go, not challenge me.

“Call him. See what he says.”

“Anthony, let go.”

“No.”

“Let go.”

“No.”

He’s beginning to really scare me now. I’ve never been afraid of him before.

“Anthony, let me go.”

“No.”

I’m beginning to get desperate, and for the first time I realize that he’s a lot bigger than I am. “Please,” I whisper, and I feel tears well up in my eyes. I never consider Anthony as very big or strong, but I feel very tiny being unable to escape from him right now. “Please, Anthony, let me go, please.”

He looks at me, and looks rather confused. I don’t cry enough, I guess. He lets go, and I wipe away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and pushes my hair out of my face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” I mutter, looking very intently at the couch. I don’t like crying in front of people.

“Why were you crying then?”

I have to think a moment before I answer. Why did I start crying, anyway? “You were scaring me. You’ve never scared me before,” I answer finally.

“Scaring you?”

“Scaring me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Wow, two in one day. It’s a whole new record for us. Anthony and I are never uncomfortable. We’re usually too busy being idiots to be uncomfortable.

“Listen, Lex, I’m sorry but-”

“Shut up,” I cut him off.

“What?” he looks surprised.

“Shut up,” I say, and going on instinct, kiss his cheek. He just looks at me. “What?” I ask him, grinning.

“I was going to apologize for-”

“Don’t. I’m not sorry,” I smile. I’m not sorry he kissed me. It just freaked me out a bit.

“Can I do it again?” he asks.

“Do what again? Call me a bitch?” I tease him, and feign innocence.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. But that’s not what I was talking about,” he looks shy again.

“I know. I was teasing you.”

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, a bit of urgency in his voice.

I put on what I hope is a thoughtful face and wait a moment before answering yes. I would have said yes anyway, I just had to make it look like I was thinking about it.

So he kissed me again.

And this time, I didn’t push him away until Jeff and the others walked through the door.