Who Are Your Friends?

Green Means Go

I sit quietly in anticipation of what’s to come. Adam starts the ignition, and we begin to drive; the AC in his car feels like the North Pole—or how I imagine it is, anyway.

Instantly, I get goosebumps, and I can't tell if he’s able to read my mind or not because he brings the temperature down even further. The chill wraps around me like a blanket, making the air feel electric, charged with unspoken words and the tension simmering between us.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from the moment. Parker texts me: I love you x.

The warmth of his words contrasts sharply with the icy air of the car. In the group chat of us four, James writes: Everyone text when they’re home safe.

I quickly type back to Parker, my heart fluttering as I reply, I love you too.

“So,” Adam says, breaking the silence that had settled like a fog between us.

“So?” I respond, trying to keep my tone light, though my pulse quickens.

“I might be getting a job at the university this year…”

That’s it? That’s really what he was being so cryptic about? He’s getting a job at my school? So f*****g what. My mind races ahead, imagining all the scenarios. I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t help it.

He continues, “It’s not full-time—it’s just kind of helping with my personal branding. It’ll be good for my reputation if I did some lecturing.”

“Okay? What does that mean?” I ask, feigning interest while my insides churn.

“It means we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other throughout the year.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks a little. I didn’t expect this. Adam is Parker’s older brother, and the first time I met him was when he came by campus to visit. He wanted us all to meet, but I barely said a single word to the man. Being in the same vicinity wouldn’t really be a big deal. But then things changed during the summer… so right now, I’m not entirely sure being in a space with him is a good idea.

“Yeah,” is all he says, his eyes focused on the road ahead, but I can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“So, what does that mean? Like, why did you feel the need to mention that?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice wavers slightly.

“I think we need to have a boundary… or boundaries.”

Ouch. His words hit me like a slap, and I can't help but let out a cynical laugh. “Oh, God. Are you giving me a stern talking-to now?”

“It’s not a talking-to; it’s me reminding you that we can’t act too comfortable.”

“It is a talking-to,” I say. “What, you think I’m gonna blurt out to everyone what happened?”

“No. I just think it’s…” He swallows, turning to me as we approach a stop sign. “...difficult to control the tension we have.”

“You think we have tension?”

“Of course.”

I think for a second.

“So what’s the boundary? We can’t have s*x?” I challenge, my heart racing at the audacity of the conversation.

“We can’t.”

His answer is firm, and I can’t tell if this irritates me or just bruises my ego entirely. The air thickens with unspoken feelings, and I can’t shake the sense of loss that washes over me.

“Why?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as if the question itself is a forbidden secret. “Is it because of Parker?”

“It’s not just that.” Adam’s gaze flickers to me for a brief moment before returning to the road. “It’s complicated. You’re Parker’s girlfriend, and I don’t want to cross any lines.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, my heart pounding in my chest. “And what if I want to cross those lines?” I half mean this when I say it, but I also know that I actually really don’t.

The question hangs in the air, charged with possibility. Adam’s jaw tightens, and I can see the internal struggle playing out on his face.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he says finally, his voice steady but soft. “I just think it’s better if we keep things… appropriate.”

Appropriate. The word feels like a cold slap, and I can’t help but feel a pang of resentment. “So, we’re just going to pretend like there’s not something between us?”

Adam glances at me again, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think we can afford to ignore it, but we have to be careful. For everyone’s sake.”

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. The chill of the AC suddenly feels suffocating, and I can’t shake the feeling that something precious is slipping away. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“Are you not interested in me anymore?” I ask him.

“I am. I just… can’t touch you.”

Something in me takes this as a challenge. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“Both.”

I stare intently at the road ahead until I don’t. I climb out of my seatbelt and I slide my hand firmly onto his crotch. Looking up at him, I ask again, “You can’t or you won’t?”

“Pelileh,” he scolds, his voice low but tense.

As he drives, I start to unbuckle his belt, slipping my hand down his pants.My fingers graze him gently, feeling him tense, his body resisting, but his face betrays the struggle.

“Pelileh, stop,” he tells me, and he’s serious but I don't care. I'm drunk and I’m frustrated and I feel rejected - I kind of really need this.

I continue, my hand moving steadily as I inch closer to him, getting knee-deep in the passenger seat. When he turns on the signal, I lower my head, my lips meeting the tip of what my hand touches. I take him in, rough and eager, driven by something primal - like i’m proving a point. His sharp intake of breath urges me on. I hear him moan and it’s my cue to go faster.

His focus wavers as his hand slides down my back, grazing the waistband of my underwear before slipping inside. I gasp, my response muffled against him as I lose myself in the heat of the moment. His fingers move quickly, and I can’t help but moan in response, the tension building rapidly. I lose myself entirely, my body reacting without thought.

Everything blurs for a second, a mix of heat and pleasure consuming me. I sit back into my chair, breathless and amused with myself. I start to kiss his neck, begging for more affection as he drives and he remains cold.

“Pelileh, you need to stop now, seriously. You’re almost home.”

“I don’t care,” I breathe, my voice trembling.

“I’m serious, stop.”

“But, Adam, I want you.”

“I want you too,” he says, his voice strained, “but we can’t. Not like this.”

I pull away from him, my breath shallow, the adrenaline fading into a pit of uncertainty in my stomach. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tries to keep his composure. The air feels heavier now, thick with regret and something else—something I can’t name.

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Neither do I.

"Pelileh," he finally says, his voice softer but no less firm. "We can't keep doing this. It's not a good idea."

I want to argue, but my mouth feels dry, and my thoughts are scattered. I just wanted to feel wanted, to feel something other than this gnawing emptiness. And now, even with everything that just happened, I don’t know what I feel anymore.

I look out the window, the city lights blurring past in a cascade of colours, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t focus on anything else. "I know," I whisper, though it feels like a lie.

The car slows as we near a red light, the screech of tyres breaking the silence between us. I can feel the space between us grow, stretching further with every passing second. His eyes flick to mine, and I see the struggle in them—the fight to maintain control, to do the right thing. But I can’t shake the feeling that the right thing doesn’t exist anymore.

The light turns green, and without a word, he accelerates, the hum of the engine filling the quiet. I sit back in my seat, my arms wrapped tightly around myself as I brace for whatever comes next.

When we pull into the driveway, the house looms in front of us like a dark, hollow shell. The lights are off, the silence deafening. He kills the engine, and for a long moment, we just sit there, neither of us moving. It’s as though we’re both waiting for something.

Finally, I reach for the door handle, my fingers cold as I grab onto the metal.

“Pelileh,” he says one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

I turn to look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What?”

“I do want you too.”

His words sting, but there’s a truth in them that I can’t deny. I swallow hard, my throat tight as I nod slowly, understanding exactly what he means.

“I’ll go inside,” I say, though I’m not sure if it’s what I really want.

I step out of the car, the night air cold against my skin. As I walk toward the house, I hear him start the engine again, pulling away without another word.

I pause at the door, my hand on the handle, and for a brief second, I wonder if I’m making a mistake. But deep down, I know that this—whatever this was—wasn’t enough to fix whatever was broken inside both of us.

I text my friends: Home safe xx. Goodnight.