Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Issa always said that the slumber party is one of the most sacred rituals in all of girlhood. Throughout time, they’ve served to bring new friends together, deepen existing bonds, and even reveal truths that might have otherwise been left undiscovered.

Which is why it was such a big deal when Issa and Billie invited Carly for a sleep over at the commune. At this point she and Samir had been dating officially for a while, and though she was spending plenty of time at their house already, Issa and Billie knew almost nothing about her outside of the positive impact she was clearly having on their friend. Samir had continued slowly making minor adjustments to his lifestyle. Not just his new clothes, or the new cologne that Billie found frustratingly nice, but other stuff, too. Stuff that the others began to notice.

Then, when Samir got a membership at a nearby gym the whole household went into a panic for 24 straight hours. Eventually, he convinced them all that he had not hit his head, been body snatched, or otherwise lost his mind, and that he was just getting winded when he had to do deliveries in buildings without elevators. The jury of housemates decided to allow it. Paul Baker, Anton, and Billie were all accepting these new changes, and believed Samy’s purported reasoning. Issa, however, was convinced that all of this was all actually about Carly: the proper styling, the extra effort, etc.

“It’s the girlfriend effect,” Issa shrugged one shoulder, confident in her conclusion and seeming like she had already had this whole discussion with herself.

Samir had always been a dependable guy. Somebody Billie could count on to never change, to always be who she expected. The only thing that had changed lately was Carly, and Billie knew about the so-called ‘girlfriend effect’. For a minute, she rolled the idea around in her head.

“Maybe you’re right,” she told Issa. Over their years of friendship, Issa had always been dramatic, but she was also often correct. The girl knew how to read people. This revelation made Billie’s stomach twist a little. Her teeth reflexively began to worry the inside of her lip.

What she was not planning to tell Issa, and certainly wasn’t going to now, was that she had still been noticing Samir a lot since the day of the sweater. Once she’d caught on to the incremental changes he was making, it became impossible for Billie to ignore. Whenever he wore a new shirt, she had to stop herself from commenting on it. When he started using product in his hair that helped to define his curl pattern, she had stared at him through an entire breakfast. Making him vocally uncomfortable.

After that incident, Billie finally asked Issa if she, too, had clocked the new-and-improved Samir. Now, she wished she never had.

“I am. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Issa said, reaffirming despite no disagreement. “I think I’m gonna invite her to sleep over next Friday.”

Billie must have been visibly wary. Issa placed a hand on her cheek, consoling her.

“We don’t want her to feel threatened by us, right? And if we’re being real, I don’t think she’s going anywhere any time soon.”
Billie had to, reluctantly, agree with her friend again.

So that Friday evening, Billie gathered all the extra blankets in the house into the living room, ordered the supplies for frozen margaritas to be delivered, and swiped some of Paul Baker’s edibles from the fridge.

Issa and Carly were sat on the couch curled up with their knees to their chests. Billie was lounging in the chair, one of her legs slung over an arm rest. The television played without sound while they talked, giggling and sipping on red wine from Samir’s mother’s mason jars. They were a few bottles deep, and so far the conversation had been dominated by Issa. First, interviewing Carly about her entire life story, and then catching her up on what all had happened since Issa’s almost-wedding to Paul Baker.

To make a long story short, Issa ended her relationship with PB and (begrudgingly) gave her blessing after many uncomfortable hours, over the course of multiple days, of what Billie could only describe as an interrogation. There was quite a bit of yelling, some confusing laughter, and in the end the boys must have satisfied her line of questioning, because Issa was now proudly single and Paul Baker and Anton were… Anything but.

“I don’t want to be the crazy ex-girlfriend, y’know? They’ve been good about it, all things considered. They’ve been respectful… But that doesn’t mean I never get blinded by a rage so hot it makes me want to go fully unhinged and burn their clothes on the lawn.”

“You know, I think that’s normal, all things considered.” Carly nodded, cautiously.
Billie had heard much darker urges uttered by Issa and this one didn’t phase her.

Everything was going fine, until Samir came home from work with their extra cheese pizza in hand.

“Good evening, ladies,” He came in with more energy than Billie expected at this hour. “How’s the party going?”

Carly greeted him cheerfully, while Issa started to explain that they had chosen to watch Little Women on mute so they could enjoy Timothee with their eyes and not their ears.

“Hm, never seen this,” He said with a shrug, standing behind the couch. “Anybody need anything else before I go to bed? Drink refills?”

“No thanks, Daddy Samir,” Issa grinned at him. Samir’s nose scrunched in response. “We’ll take care of it.”

Samir leaned over to kiss Carly goodnight, gently cupping her chin with one hand as he did and, for some reason, Billie could not make herself look away. When he broke the kiss, his eyes happened to fall onto her. Billie’s own eyes darted over to Issa, as though he hadn’t already seen her watching them.

“Goodnight,” Issa sang out.

“Night, Samir,” Billie said, looking past him instead of at him and offering a polite smile.

As he went up the stairs, Issa sat forward onto her knees, closer to Carly now, and placed her empty jar onto the coffee table.

“You guys are like, too cute,” Issa said, dreamy-eyed.

“Oh, thanks,” Carly said with a nervous laugh. “That’s sweet.”

“Seriously, seeing Samir be a boyfriend has been a highlight of my year. I think he’s really happy.”

“Thanks,” Carly said again, this time her smile seemed more genuine. Billie felt a slight ache in her chest.

“Oh, it should be us thanking you,” Issa teased. “Samir has been deep in his glow up era lately,”

Carly laughed at that, loudly, eliciting a new wave of giggles all around.

“No, no, I’m serious,” Issa said through her laughter. “We’ve all noticed it. Right, Billie?”

Billie met Issa’s expectant gaze, and then they both looked over to Carly.

“Totally,” She nodded, smiled, and hoped that would be enough.

“See? Girlfriend effect,” Issa said with a nod of her own.

“What’s that?” Carly asked, nervous eyes returned just as quick as they left.

“The girlfriend effect? It’s when an average guy like Samir gets a girlfriend,” Issa said, pointing to Carly, “And then he gets like, inexplicably ten times hotter.”

“Oh,” Carly shook her head, a small smile. “I—I don’t know about that.”

“We do,” Issa assured her. “Really, he showers more often, he gets up earlier. A few days ago, I saw him eat a salad.”

Billie snorted out a laugh. She could see Carly softening to this new idea, considering it.

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t think I’m doing anything.” She slurped up the end of her own jar loudly through her straw. “Samir has grown up a lot since college. You know how he used to be super sweet and hesitant and really just, like, kind of a little bitch?”

“Yeah,” Issa said.

“Oh, yeah, his whole life,” Billie had to agree.

“Well, he’s still sweet, but it’s different now. He’s not a bitch, he’s like… A gentleman.”

“Awww,” Issa clutched a fist to her heart. “See, that’s fucking hot.”

Billie felt a rolling wave of something in her gut and the sudden urge to remove herself from this conversation entirely. She jumped up from her chair while Carly and Issa carried on, and collected their empty glass jars.

“Who needs another round?” She asked, going to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. 

Billie placed the jars down beside the sink and gripped the edge of the counter. She internally scolded herself, willing her nervous system to freaking relax. After a couple rounds of deep breath she busied herself with opening a new bottle of wine and portioning it out into the jars. If she gave herself a little extra, it certainly wasn't for any specific reason.

When she returned, Issa was inviting Carly to the upcoming meeting of her book club, which would be held at their house in two days, on Sunday night.

“I would love to, but I don’t think I’ll have the time to read a whole book by then,” Carly thanked Billie and happily took her drink. Issa took her own jar and yanked Billie down onto the couch between them.

“Issa never reads the books,” Billie said, and Issa scoffed.

“I’m a busy woman. Plus the Feminist Book Club isn’t like a regular book club. It’s more like an intellectual, ladies only social group.”

“Plus Anton, and Samir… and Paul Baker…” Billie chimed.

Issa continued, glaring daggers at Billie but otherwise undeterred.

“It’s a space where women can come together, and share big ideas, and create community.”

Billie just sipped her wine.

In her experience, Feminist Book Club was more like a women’s only night at a karaoke bar. Issa had hosted the club a few time before this weekend, and both nights ended with multiple women crying and multiple others making out with each other in various corners. At the most recent one, Samir even got himself slapped across the face. Billie decided to spare Carly that story.

“Wow, it sounds so interesting,” Carly said. And if she were lying, Billie couldn’t tell. “I’d love to come by.”

Later on, when the lights were all out and Billie had moved from the couch to a pile of blankets on the floor, the topic of Paul Baker came up once again. Issa and Carly laid end to end on the couch and kept their voices low now, talking by the glow of the silent television.

"He was the only guy I've ever pegged,” Carly and Billie both giggled. “Seriously! Everybody else said no, but Paul Baker really liked to experiment. What if I can never find that again?"

“Personally,” Carly paused, hiccuped, then carried on, “I think you can find compatibility with almost anybody. As long as they’re generous. Bad sex is just sex where somebody is being selfish.”
Issa hummed, thinking on this profound take.

“Or maybe they're, like, inexperienced. Like, take Samy for example,” Carly continued. “In college he wasn’t bad, but he was timid. Now he’s got more confidence... He always makes sure I come first.”

“Alright, Samy," Issa nodded. "I wouldn’t have guessed,”

Carly laughed in return. Billie laid still on the floor.

“I never think about Samir like that, I guess,” Issa shrugged, snuggling further into her spot.

“He’s definitely not selfish… Plus, that tongue goes craaaazy.”

Carly and Issa both erupted into a fit of giggles at that. Billie gently tossed onto her side, pretending to already be asleep.

The scene was disjointed, as Billie’s dreams often were. At first, she was alone in the kitchen, standing by the table in just an oversized t-shirt and white socks. The sunlight was bursting in through the window in a way that washed out her vision. Billie’s whole body felt heavy, like time was moving slow around her. She was looking out the window, and when she turned around again, Samir was there in the doorway. The look on his face was unfamiliar. Another slow blink and he was in front of her, hands at her waist, guiding her backwards until the edge of the table met the backs of her thighs. When she perched her ass on the edge of the table, Samir dropped to his knees before her. The gentle feeling of his hands on her thighs as he pushed her long shirt up felt almost real. As did the swipe of his tongue.

When she woke up, still on the living room floor, Billie was sticky with a thin layer of sweat. The television was off now, all she could hear were the soft breaths of Carly and Issa, fast asleep. Billie slipped one hand into her sweatpants and felt the wet cotton of her panties. A soft defeated sigh escaped her, without waking either of the others, she went upstairs and took a cold shower. This had never happened before. She cursed Carly silently for even mentioning her sex life with Samir.

That Sunday, Issa had her housemates all lined up in the kitchen for the pre-event rundown. After the roast chicken fiasco, it had become tradition.

“I know that the last time I hosted the feminist book club, things got a little... out of hand.” She eyed Samir and Anton pointedly. “But tonight is gonna be different. Right?”

“Right.” Billie, Anton, Paul Baker, and Samir all replied together.

“Even though I wasn’t present the first time,” Paul Baker reminded her.

“And for the record,” Anton interjected, “Samir has a girlfriend now. We won’t be trying to set him up with any feminists.”

“Regardless!” Issa held up a hand. “The feminist book club is not just a book club. It’s an intellectual, progressive social group. It’s a safe space for women to gather and like, network!”

All of the roommates nodded solemnly in agreement. Billie leaned forward to peek down the line at Samir. She had avoided him as best as possible since her dream on Friday night, and kept conversations quick when she couldn’t. He was wearing a simple short sleeved button down and corduroy pants. The shirt sleeves were cuffed and hugging his arms in a way that gave off  the illusion of a toned bicep. She looked back to Issa. Soon, the house would be crawling with about thirty drunk bodies, and it would be easier to keep herself away from him. Everything is going to be fine, she told herself, and tried to focus on Issa’s instructions.

Billie was put in charge of snack replenishment and Anton, as usual, was put in charge of drinks. Paul Baker would be the DJ for the evening. Wide eyed, he rushed out of the room with his phone in hand already compiling a playlist.

“And Samy, I’ve got nothing for you. Have fun and look cute, I guess,” Issa said cheerily, with a big shrug and a kiss on Samir’s cheek.

“Oh... Hell yeah.” He gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll be on my best and cutest behavior.”

Right on time, a loud knock came at the front door and Samir hurried to answer it.

“On it!” He called over his shoulder.

Billie stood with only Anton and Issa in the kitchen. For a moment,she considered telling them about her dream, desperate to just get it off her chest and feel some relief. But she didn’t want Issa worrying over her tonight. Billie knew how deeply stressful hosting could be.

As if she could read Billie's mind, Issa suddenly left the kitchen, calling over her shoulder: "Where are my beta blockers? It's time to lock in people!"

“Should we get ourselves drinks first?” She asked him. With a silent, slow nod Anton turned to the counter to get started on his first batch of beverages.

"Mhm, yes, I will be needing to, if we're locking in."

“Nobody has any appreciation for a woman’s happy trail,” Issa said to a redheaded girl with glasses, Heather, shouting as the music was loudest in the living room. Billie sat between them on the couch, gulping down one of Anton’s frozen margaritas.

“It’s like, yeah, sure, we’re getting more love for bush, and that’s beautiful…” Issa carried on. “But is it progress if we’re still expected to be entirely hairless otherwise?”

Billie chewed her lip, hearing Issa but not quite paying attention. The party was now in full swing, and Billie's focus was being pulled all around the crowded room, stopping much too often where Samir and Carly were cuddled up on a chair in the corner. But not, like, on purpose.

Carly giggled, leaned in to whisper in Samir’s ear. Without a word, Billie got up and walked into the kitchen, where she slammed directly into Anton, who blocked the doorway with his tall frame. He sloshed his pitcher of unpleasant margaritas dramatically into the glasses of two unsuspecting women, then swung around to Billie, wild-eyed.

“Uhm, hello, watch it, please,” He said to her, and then he took in her frazzled expression. “Wait. What’s wrong with you?”

Anton set his pitcher down on the counter to scrutinize her face even further.

“You’ve got that look on your face, like when we watch Bridgerton…” He gasped. “Wait, you’re horny, aren’t you?”

Anton’s expression shifted from intrigue to worry.

“Oh no. Oh god, are you into Paul Baker now, too? You really cannot be, Billie, this is crossing into friend-cest territory,”

Billie rolled her eyes.

“I am not into Paul Baker, and I’m not horny,” she interjected with a sharp whisper.
She grabbed Anton by his wrist and yanked him into the downstairs bathroom.

“Ouch!” He whined while Billie shut the door behind them, assessing his wrist for damage. “Whatever this is, it better be good, you know I hate this place.”

Anton crossed his arms over his chest. He looked with a grimace around the outdated and under-cleaned bathroom.

“I think... I think I wanna have sex with Samir.” Billie confessed.

“Oh,” Anton’s eyebrows raised. “Wow, okay.”

Billie swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Worth it,” Anton decided with a nod. “But that- that is a little bit insane, my love.” He told her.

“What? It’s not insane.” Billie shook her head, hammering home her disbelief. “Why is it insane?”

“Because he has a girlfriend, for one.” Anton said, ignoring any personal hypocrisy there to put a friendly hand on her shoulder before he continued. “And also because Samir is definitely in love with you. If you have sex with him it will probably ruin your friendship, like, forever.”

That hit Billie hard. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of that possibility. But to hear it put so plainly, it made her suddenly unable to ignore what it could mean if she crossed that line with Samir. He was her oldest friend in the world. She couldn’t find any words, so she just pouted up at Anton, dejected.

“Oh, Bills, relax,” he said, giving her shoulder a pat. “Maybe you really are just horny. You’ll get over this. It’ll pass, and he’ll go back to being just Samy again.”

With a gulp, Billie nodded. That sounded logical enough.

“Okay,” Anton continued. “Now, I need to get out of this mildewy hell hole, and you need another drink.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute, okay?” Billie asked, and Anton smiled at her.

“Of course,” he left quickly. She heard the blender fire up, distorting the beat of the music as she looked at herself in the mirror.

The truth of the matter was that she knew this wasn’t just a horny thing. She had been having plenty of casual sex since Mr. Teacher. And while maybe not all of it was satisfying, there had been enough positive encounters that she was honestly feeling a little bit over it. Still, Anton was right about one thing: Sleeping with Samir, her best friend, was an excellent way to blow up their friendship and his relationship with Carly all in one fell swoop.

Billie leaned her back against the sink, closing her eyes for a steadying breath. It was just a temporary, if not intense, crush. It was not serious. All she had to do was ignore it until it went away.

Truthfully, this wasn’t the first time this had happened, when Billie thought about it. Back when they were both freshmen at different colleges, living more than a few miles away from each other for the first time since they’d met, she missed Samir. A lot. She found herself jealous when he told her about all the friends he was making, and the fun he was having. At the time, she thought that her jealousy was because he was actually making close connections at college. It was something Billie struggled with the whole four years she was away. Some of the best times of her college years were the weekends she spent back in the city with Samir and his group. Eventually, she admitted (only to herself) that maybe her blooming jealousy had been rooted in missing him more than general loneliness.

Then, over the years, they had both dated and broken up with so many different people. They’d become so domestically dependent on each other, just like they were with all of their roommates, that any romantic layers of her feelings had faded away. Yes, they had resurfaced, but they would fade away again. They had to, or else Billie thought she might go nuts.

With her chin up, Billie exited the bathroom, making her way back to the kitchen to grab her next drink. Anton had it ready for her.

“Thanks,” she said to him, tapping her red solo cup against his. He gave her a knowing wink.

Billie wandered back into the living room, once again frustrated at the sight of Samir and Carly, who now swayed to the music in each other’s arms, laughing. Jesus, what could possibly be so funny?

She was grateful to see Paul Baker, now alone on the couch. Billie plopped down beside him and took a sip from her cup. A reflexive cringe took over her face.

“New batch?” Paul Baker asked.

“Yep,” Billie wiped a dribble off her lip with her thumb. “This one has a shocking amount of lime juice.”

Paul Baker took the cup from her and sipped it himself.

“Oh, fuck, that tastes like battery acid.” He whistled, then took another gulp. Billie laughed.

“Please, keep it. I can switch to beer.” She told him.

They sat listening to the music, about a dozen women, and Samir, dancing and singing all around them. A Fleetwood Mac song was reaching its climax, Samir and Carly took turns spinning each other in circles. Billie watched them, fully unable to help herself after a few of Anton’s margaritas. Samir pulled Carly in by her waist and enthusiastically belted out the lyrics. Carly buried her face in his chest. Billie sighed involuntarily.

The song changed, but her attention remained fixed. It was only when Paul Baker put a gentle hand on her knee that she snapped out of her drunken little trance.

“Oh... Oh shit, Billie. I didn't know." he said with a warm, earnest look on his face that she'd come to love him for. “That sucks.”

For a moment, she was confused, and then she understood that he understood. Billie blushed, embarrassed that he had seen right through her. Stupid PB and his high emotional intelligence. She held her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head.

“No, it’s okay, it’s totally fine,” Billie took the cup back from him and sipped it, wincing. “It’s not a big deal.”

A moment passed before Paul Baker spoke again.

“You wanna go get high?” He asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, uh-huh, yes please.” Billie stood up. “Let’s go. Front porch, Baker.”

As he stood up with her, Paul Baker reclaimed the margarita from Billie. He finished it off and placed the empty cup down on a table.

“He’s really not getting any better at making drinks, eh?” Paul Baker said, scrunching his nose as he did. The more he drank, the more Canadian he became.

“No, he is not,” Billie agreed, grateful the drink was gone. They looped arms while they made their way to the front door.

Everyone was gathered in the living room when the last lingering feminists finally left.

“I am never hosting again!” Issa exclaimed as she locked the door and came back into the living room, flopping down on the couch between Billie and Samir with a dramatic sigh.

Everyone, including Issa, knew that this was a lie. The next time around, she would want to serve even more food, invite even more people, and they would all happily comply. Anton laid with his limbs sprawled out on the floor, one foot propped up on the coffee table. Paul Baker was carrying a trash bag around the house, tidying up as he wandered, aimless.

“That’s what you said last time, actually.” Anton corrected Issa. “And the time before that, and the time before that.”

“And the time before that,” Samir chimed in.

“Well, whatever. Feminist book club is important to me.” Issa said.

“You don’t even read the books!” Anton shouted.

“Feminist book club is no-” Issa began.

“Not just a book club!” Anton, Billie, Samir, and Paul Baker all finished for her in chorus.

Issa huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, but said nothing.

Paul Baker, satisfied with his cleaning efforts, tossed the garbage bag down on the floor and gave Anton a gentle nudge with one foot.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” He said.

Anton only yawned dramatically in response, then stood up off the floor. The two of them headed up the stairs with just a ‘goodnight’ called over their shoulders.

After their wedding, Paul Baker was relocated to sleep in the twin bed beside Anton’s in the room that had once belonged to Samir’s sisters. Though it might have made more logical sense for the boys to share the bed where Paul Baker used to sleep with Issa, the thought of stealing Issa’s boyfriend and her bedroom all at once gave Anton hives. So, Billie and Issa were sharing a king. Meanwhile, the two housemates over six feet shared two twin beds shoved up against each other. Every night, the scraping sounds of the beds being moved could be heard throughout the house. Though everyone was very clear about what was going on, Paul Baker put in the effort to pull them apart again every morning.

Issa yawned now, too. She stretched her arms overhead and her legs out in front of her with pointed toes. Getting up to bounce around behind the couch, she kisses the top of Billie’s head. 

“Don’t be long, dear,” Issa said, a stroke of her finger tips against Billie’s cheek. Billie giggled, still feeling pretty stoned from her time on the porch with Paul Baker.
“Sleep well, my angel,” she teased back.

And then, as quickly as Issa could flounce up the staircase, she was alone with Samir. They were sitting together on the couch, like they had done countless times before, but it was the first time they’d been alone together since her dream. God, she had drunk too many of those nasty margaritas.

“Man, those feminists sure can party,” Samir said. He turned to face her, bringing his legs up onto the couch.

Billie nodded with a weak smile, only daring to glance at him before looking down at her lap. Maybe she wasn’t hiding her discomfort very well, but she had just about everything working against her at that moment.

“Hey, are you good?” Samir was suddenly asking, and she wondered how much of the worry was written on her face.

“Me?” She replied, “Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of Anton’s margs.”

“Oh,” Samir chuckled. “Yeah, I had one. It was brutal, so I switched to beer.”

Another awkward nod.

“It’s just… I feel like you’re maybe mad at me? We’ve barely talked at all the last few days.” Samir said.

Billie’s mouth went dry. She cursed Anton’s drink making skills, Paul Baker and his weed, and most of all, she cursed herself for not following Issa up those stairs. Right now, she could be lying in her bed, panicking in private.

“I’m not mad at you,” Billie said. OK. Good. That felt safe.

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

Billie watched Samir pull his legs to his chest, scooting in a little closer to her. It was as innocent as innocent could be. She felt herself getting warm.

“So, it’s all just been in my head, I guess?”

It wasn’t accusatory; it was a genuine question, and that gave Billie a pang of guilt. A loud voice in her mind begged her not to say anything more. Just let him think he’s imagining it.

Unfortunately, Billie wasn’t accustomed to lying to Samir.

“No, it’s... It's not in your head,” Billie glanced away from him again, and wondered what exactly she was about to say. She held back the urge to word-vomit and paused. It was important to her to not fuck this up. Not to lie, but to also not overwhelm or scare Samir. After a minute of thought, she finally turned her body to face him. She was surprised to find him still staring at her, waiting.

“You’re right, I have been avoiding you, but I’m not mad at you,” she assured him again. “I’m definitely not mad at you…” 

Samir sat with this vague information. He thought back over the last few days. Billie had been behaving differently around him. Giving him lots of one-word answers and always rushing out of the room when he entered. Not to mention tonight, and the number of times he had caught her eyeballing him. In fact, when he thought about it, she had been inexplicably staring at him for weeks now. The pieces floated around in his head, bumping together but never quite sticking to one another. Not until he refocused his attention on Billie’s face.

Her big blue eyes were wide, full of concern and expectations. One side of her bottom lip was held between her teeth. It suddenly dawned on him what it was Billie was implying, and Samir felt his head start to spin a bit.

“Oh...” He said, “Oh.”

Then he was quiet again. Billie watched a variety of emotions play across his face. As time passed and he processed, a pit of anxiety started to open up in her gut.
“You’re-” Samir now found himself choosing his words carefully, too. “You're not mad at me.”

Billie nodded, keeping her eyes on Samir's now.

"So you've been acting different because..."

She nodded again. Somehow her hand was on his knee. How did that get there?

They held each other’s eye contact. Samir took a deep breath.

“I really don’t know what to do with this information,” he told her.

The anxiety swelled, her stomach turned.

“I’m sorry,” Billie said.

Samir ran a hand through his curls. Whatever product he was using lately left them soft and springy. He looked at Billie, who was staring as he struggled to finish a thought. He sighed, looked up at the ceiling for a beat, then back at Billie. 

“I would really like to do something right now, but I can’t,” he told her. Billie tried to ignore the edge of desperation sneaking into his tone. “But I can’t do nothing. I know it isn't right, or whatever, but all I can think about right now is looking back on this night, years from now, and kicking myself for not kissing you the night of Feminist Book Club. I don’t know what to do.”

His eyebrows pulled together as he asked her: “What do I do?”

Billie didn’t know what to tell him. A night of substances and a rush of adrenaline buzzed through her brain, she could no longer bring herself to look away from Samir. It wasn't always like this, was it? There was an underlying chemistry between them, that was certain. It was why they were still such close friends after all these years. Why they could both trust each other more than anybody else. Why she could talk to Samir with an ease that didn’t exist with other people. But why did it suddenly feel like electricity under her skin? Why was it now so impossible to ignore?

Anton’s words from the bathroom replayed in her head. “...it will probably ruin your friendship, forever.”

The line had not been crossed yet, but there was very little opportunity left to turn back now. She could see Samir’s stress in the crinkle of his forehead. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him or mess with his feelings. It was true, her friendship with him was probably the most important relationship in her life. What if they did hook up and it went badly? Or what if it went really, really well? Either outcome scared her, if she was being honest. 

Neither of them had looked away from the other. She took a deep breath in and out through her nose, her shoulders rose and fell while she did. 

A loud grumble came from her empty stomach, and they both snapped out of their individual spirals.
“Can we go get some pizza?” Billie asked.

Samir’s shoulders relaxed. Whatever thought spiral he was stuck in, that seemed to release him.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he nodded, a look of relief on his face as he stood up to gather his wallet and shoes.

The pizza spot a few blocks over was usually busy even at this hour, but tonight it was just them alongside a few other drunk patrons, scattered at various tables. Samir ordered them four slices and two sodas before meeting Billie at the window table she chose. They ate their first slices quietly, the same way they had walked over to the pizzeria. Samir handed Billie a napkin when she got some sauce on her chin, and smiled when she stole a sip of his Sprite. On the outside this was mundane, just another repeat of late nights they’d shared hundreds of times before. But inside, both of them were nearly vibrating at the table. The longer they sat, stealing glances and smirks, the higher the tension built.

“Okay,” Samir finally began, building up the nerve to speak just when Billie bit into her second slice. “You gotta give me something, Bills. I’m dying over here.”

She chewed slowly, swallowed hard, aware this moment was coming, yet sweating it anyway.

“Uhm, well...” Billie looked at him with a softness in her eyes. He looked tired, but singularly focused on her as his second slice of pizza sat ignored on the paper plate. “I guess... I guess that I’ve just been noticing you a lot, and I was trying to just let it pass. But this weekend made me realize that maybe it’s only getting worse.”

“'It' being?”

“The feelings that I’ve been having.”

Samir nodded.

“And what are those feelings?” he pressed her, leaning in.

“I—I don’t know.” Billie deflated just a little, knowing that answer couldn’t be satisfactory. “I think part of it’s seeing you with Carly? You’re so sweet to her, and I guess I’ve been a little jealous.”

Samir nodded again. It was hard to read his expression, but Billie knew he was probably freaking out internally.

“So, how do you know that you’re not noticing me now, because you can’t have me?” he asked, straight to the point.

“I don’t know,” Billie repeated. “That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t say anything to you. I would hate myself if that were the case, but I can acknowledge it’s possible.”

“Well, for the record, I wouldn’t hate you,” Samir said.

“But it’s more than the Carly thing, I think,” Billie carried on. “I’m not jealous that she’s getting your attention, or that you’re in a relationship and I'm not. Even when she’s not around I can’t stop myself from staring at you, and thinking about you, and it's not—I can’t even explain it, but it’s like, it’s like I didn’t realize that I wanted you. And now I do realize it, but it’s too late.”

And there it was. The word-vomit she’d been holding back. The truth she’d been denying even to herself.

Samir swallowed her words with an audible gulp.

“You…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “You want me?”

Billie had said it without thinking, but she knew that she meant it.

She replied slowly, drawing out each word: “I believe that I do,”

Now he knew. It was out there, and there was no taking it back. Billie felt the first bit of weight lift off of her shoulders.

Samir let a sly little smirk slip, then steeled his expression, keeping it neutral.

He nodded at her for too long. He took a sip of his drink.

They were both quiet. Billie tried not to torture herself by wondering what he was thinking. She wanted to encourage him to speak, but also give him as much time as he needed to process. The confession quickly getting her antsy.

Finally, after a torturous silence, Samir spoke.

“So, I’ve been thinking, ever since you told me that you want me,” he started. Billie rolled her eyes at him, unable to help herself from smiling at his smugness. “I think I have an idea.”

“Okay, enlighten me.” she said.

“Well we’re roommates, right?” he began, nonchalantly. “We eat meals together all the time.”

“Every day, almost,” Billie agreed. She felt a little more weight coming off. 

“Sometimes we’re even alone for those meals,” he informed her, as though she wasn’t the one who sat next to him on the couch, eating ramen noodles that she'd made for them. “So, maybe we could have dinner, together, this week. I’ll cook for you, and we can eat in the dining room. We could dress nice, if you wanted to. It’d be kinda like a date, but not a date, because it’s at home, and I do have a girlfriend.”

“Hm.” Billie thought about it. What he was suggesting sounded easy. But the reality was Samy would be risking a perfectly happy relationship for complete uncertainty. “You’re sure?”

“Sure about what? It’s dinner, Bills.” Samir nudged her foot with his under the table, playful and light. “We should figure out what this all actually means for you, right? Dinner at home seems like the least problematic way to do that.”

Billie was acutely aware that he was trying to play it cool. While this plan existed in a moral gray-area, Billie knew that Samir was a loyal guy. It made her uneasy to be putting him in this position at all, even if it was his idea.

But, Samir was right. This did feel like a safe way to explore her budding feelings for him, in a controlled environment. It wouldn’t be cheating on Samir’s behalf, because he’d eat dinner with her there anyways. The clothes they wore or the room they sat in didn’t truly matter, but it would provide a date-adjacent atmosphere for them to explore the realm outside of platonic friendship. There were definitely some concerns, some questions, but Billie was not going to burst his cool-guy bubble. Not when it looked so good on him. Not when she was talking and giggling with him again after these awkward, tense weeks. 

“That might work,” she said with a nod. “It’s a good plan.”

That earned her a grin from Samir.

They didn’t have to discuss that it would be Wednesday night. That was the one night each week they were always guaranteed to be alone in the house these days. For Paul Baker and Anton, Wednesdays were date nights; they went to the movies, or rollerblading, or any place that provided them an excuse to hold hands and be coupley in public. And on Wednesdays, Issa went straight from work to her Pilates After Dark class. This was, in fact, exactly as erotic as it sounded. The group discussed it and decided to support whatever she needed to do to heal.

“Alright, cool,” Samir said, nodding back at her and finding it hard to look anywhere but at her face.

The softness in the way she looked at him made Samir feel like he was being hugged. Her slightly drunk, mostly sleepy expression was always endearing to him, but left him feeling extra buzzy that night.

“I missed you, this,” Billie said to him before she could filter the drunk thought out. “I didn’t know until now, but I did.”

They sat there smiling at each other across the table, like two little kids with a secret, until the owner of the shop gruffly asked them to get the hell out. They didn’t talk very much while they finished their food, or on the walk back home, but they walked closely together in the chilly night air, backs of their hands bumping every few steps along the way.

When they got back home, Samir followed Billie upstairs. They paused together at the top of the stairs. Billie wanted to reach out and hold his hands or give him a hug.

“If you change your mind, you’ll tell me, right?” He asked her.

Billie nodded, then leaned in to peck him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Samir,” she said, turning to leave before either of them could do anything stupid.