Berries and Greed

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “You haven’t been in here for a while then. Not since I moved in, I mean. So that’s good.”

I shrugged again, keeping my head bent as I fiddled with the box of matches in my hands. Then I heard myself mumble, “Yeah, well. I dunno. I guess you make me happy, or whatever.”

There was a long pause, during which I wanted to kick out the window, wriggle my body through it and start a new life somewhere else. Then I felt Beryl rest her small hand on my knee.

When I reluctantly looked up, her green eyes looked glassy in the candlelight. But that was probably just the shade.

She swallowed, and her voice sounded a little thick as she said, “You make me happy too, Greid.”

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Chapter Twenty

Greid

As I stared at her, my hearts started going nuts. Before I could stop it, my gaze drifted down to her mouth.

Should I ask if I can kiss her? No. No! What the fuck, dude? She tells you that you make her happy and your response is to try and stick your tongue down her throat? You total creep.

Not to mention the fact that we were both high. And her saying I made her happy did not mean… anything. She meant our friendship made her happy. Living here made her happy. She’d given absolutely no indication that she thought of me as anything more than a friend. And a roommate.

Man, that was more depressing than it should have been. I should have just been happy with her friendship. Grateful for it. It was wrong of me to long for anything more, and I absolutely could not ever tell her. She was living in my house, for fuck’s sake. Completely reliant on me for the time being. It would feel like I was… leveraging the power I technically had over her to coerce her into something she didn’t want.

The thought made me want to squirm in horror. God, no. I couldn’t ever even hint that I liked her in that way. It would make her wildly uncomfortable. Probably make her worry that I’d kick her out if I didn’t get what I wanted. Especially as I had insisted so vehemently that this arrangement was completely non-sexual in nature.

Maybe I could just ask to give her another hug? Friends do that, right? Hug?

But no. Still weird and wrong. Because I would not just be feeling friendly if I hugged Beryl.

I jumped when her hand shifted on my knee. Tingles raced over my whole body as it slid down a little to squeeze my calf.

I heard Beryl swallow, then hoarsely say, “Greid…”

“Want another joint?” I blurted, already jamming it between my lips and fumbling for a match.

She paused, then slowly slid her hand off my leg and sat back. “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool, cool.” My voice cracked with nerves and utter disappointment. Nothing could ever happen between Beryl and me, even if she ever hinted at wanting it.

For multiple reasons. Not just because of the living situation. I had to remember that. She was human. I was a demiurgus. We didn’t fit.

Even though… fuck, it felt like we’d fit. It felt like we’d be so good.

After dropping the match into the ashtray, I sat back and took a long drag of my joint, closing my eyes and trying to shake off the funk I’d fallen into. We’d been having an amazing evening. I couldn’t ruin it now by getting all mopey. I couldn’t ruin Beryl’s good day.

“Oh, shit.” My eyes popped open, and I reached over to fumble for the little latch on the window, pushing it open. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

I kept my elbow propped on the edge of the nest so the joint stayed close to the window, directing the smoke outside. “So, um… Did you like the wrestling?”

She laughed, tucking her knees to her chest and pulling her onesie over them. “Yeah, it was fun. Is it… Are they actually fighting?”

“Nah, it’s all acting.” I’d refused to believe it for years, and my siblings used to tease me mercilessly for being so gullible. “Still impressive though, right?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” She tilted her knees to nudge my leg, giving me a sly smile. “Do you think you’d be a good wrestler?”

I snorted. “No fucking way. I’m a terrible liar, remember? I can’t act for shit.”

She laughed, then cocked her head. “I think I’d be good at it.”

Suddenly, all I could picture was Beryl in a tight spandex suit. My gut bottomed out, so I hurriedly took a drag of my joint.

“Yeah, you’d be good at it,” I said. “You’re obviously a good actor. You fooled the sex people for years.”

She chuckled. “Yeah.”

There was a pause, before she cleared her throat. “I hope you know that I haven’t acted at all around you, Greid. I haven’t been pretending. I can be totally, one hundred percent myself with you.”

A pleased smile tilted my lips as my face spikes twitched. “Good. Um, me too.”

She grinned at me, resting her chin on her knees. “I know I can say or ask you anything without feeling naïve or embarrassed.”