Seven Years Apart.

2

Present,

Siggy rested on Jamie’s clavicle, panting, feeling his chest expand.

Though they laid on an average-sized sofa, the furniture was too small for Jamie, not because his body was too long—he was five feet, ten inches tall—but his bone structure was of a much thicker build. On top of the wide cage, his love for the gym showed through his large muscles. He wasn’t too lean, however, and Siggy liked that. Siggy liked all of him, in fact.

“You’re handsome.” She caressed the man’s jaw.

Jamie smiled and brushed his fingers through her wavy hair. He saw the flower print on the cushion behind her. His girlfriend had just purchased it, along with the vintage center table and flower vase from a garage sale.

At his drooping semblance, Siggy discovered his reverie. Rejection and regret sheathing his face. She climbed calmly off the couch and collected her bra and panties.

“Siggy, that text I sent you—” Jamie sat up.

“It’s better if we say nothing.” Siggy pulled her shirt over her belly. “I won’t tell your girlfriend about this. Neither of us were being rational.”

She fixed her hair to one side and directed her gaze away in shame. Although he once belonged to her, in the present, someone else had his heart.

“Let’s keep it civilized,” she added.

“I agree,” he replied.

Siggy would keep quiet about what happened between them. Despite their loathing for one another, keeping secrets was one quality they had in common.

***

Years ago,

Knocking on Jamie Hackett’s door to visit him was no longer a requirement. Mr. and Mrs. Hackett gave her a key after discovering their son pulling her into his bedroom through the window.

As the teenagers had been friends since middle school, the parents didn’t find wisdom in enforcing rules on their friendship. However, when they handed Siggy a set of keys, they let her and Jamie understand they had an eye on them, and “when Siggy is visiting, keep the bedroom door open. There’s no need to close it if you’re studying or doing whatever.”

On the upside, Siggy didn’t need to climb Jamie’s awful bedroom window. Her limbs had lost a battle against the frame’s sharp edges, once or twice. On the downside, Mrs. Hackett had caught her many times with her fingers on Jamie’s lap or brushing his hair in a suspicious, slow manner.

Her own cousins saw the adorable way she called her friend, Jam. Last Wednesday at the pizza party, she couldn’t stop looking at him, so they gave her the nickname thirsty tyolka: a fat, virgin, Russian girl desperately searching for a boyfriend. She wasn’t overweight, but everything regarding weight bothered all girls.

“What does that mean?” asked Jamie.

“They just think they’re funny,” Siggy gave him a hollow laugh.

She put that behind her because today was a rainy Tuesday. The more the thunder and lightning kept everyone jumping off their heels, the more chances school would be closed. So as soon as she confirmed the cancelation of her classes, she popped an umbrella and ran to Jamie’s house. His parents left for work, turning it into the perfect day.

She left the umbrella and her slippers on the porch, turned the key carefully, and tiptoed inside the house, trying not to wake him. She planned on giving him the biggest scare of his life. Her arms were in the air, as if it made any difference walking through the kitchen. In three more steps, she stood in front of his bedroom. She pushed the wood panel to meet an empty bed.

Then her chin diffused with her neck, and her heels fell back to the icy floor. At first glance, a girl with short hair stood by the bed, staring down at her long blue dress and brandishing the fabric around. Her heart shattered, and the debris accumulated in her stomach.

Jamie didn’t tell her he had a girlfriend. The last time he liked someone, he told Siggy about it. She didn’t understand why he hid this from her.

Upon closer analysis, this girl didn’t appear much like a girl. She only saw her hair and broad shoulders. As the dress twirled elegantly, her face became unblemished.

Jamie?

Jamie wore a strapless dress. His face—what was on his face? The black around his eyes was eyeshadow or... shoe polish? Either way, it was ridiculous.

Jamie gasped in horror. He gathered the enveloping fabric to hide the dress. Manly Jamie Hackett, captain of his high school wrestling team and Siggy’s platonic boyfriend, was gay?

As he hoisted the fabric, the butterfly on his pink panties sparkled. Siggy’s face reduced to the size of a pea, and she darted out of the bedroom.

“Siggy!” he called after her.

HIs hand spun her around before she arrived at the exit.

“Please, don’t tell anyone. The wrestling team will shred me to pieces,” he pleaded.

She dropped her head to the side, preferring not to establish eye contact. Stupid. He was gay, but she had hung from cloud nine too long to notice. Then again, he had had at least a girlfriend or two—she saw him kissing Erika Orlando at a pep rally once, which she recalled with distaste.

“I won’t. My mom told me to do some errands. I have to go.”

“But you’re mad at me.” He wouldn’t let go of her. She sort of liked that.

“No, I’m not.” She scowled, shrugged her shoulders and tapped her heel against the floor.

“Yes, you are.”

“Why would I be mad at you? This is your house. You can do whatever you want.” 

Cocky. 

She admitted her selfishness in her own head. She didn’t remember when she concluded she liked him other than as a friend, but a long time had passed. And to learn her efforts of conquest had failed incited enmity toward every girl; and now, boy. 

How unfair.

“Please, Siggy, I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” He relaxed his gaze.

“And I hate it when you’re gay,” she snapped.

Jamie’s neck elongated. He separated his lips to say something, but he remained quiet.

Siggy lifted her hands in front of her and established eye contact to withdraw her own words. Homophobia was a thing for the elderly, she learned in school. “Live and let live,” is what this generation said. She hadn’t meant to get political, no. But Jamie—her Jamie—had to be hers.

“I-I never wanted to hurt you, Jam. It’s just that if you’re into boys, then you don’t like girls, and if you don’t like girls—” She took a deep breath as pools developed in her eyes. As if competing with v*****s was complicated enough, she had to add p*****s to the obstacle course between her and his soul.

“It means I don’t like you.” He finished her sentence.

She gulped. Her stomach sank further. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

The boy nodded. “But I’m okay with it because I like you, too. That’s the whole reason I begged Mrs. Burton to make me your lab partner in biology class.”

“That was years ago.” She gaped, wondering why he never made an advance.

As if he read her mind, he responded. “It’s hard to reveal my feelings for you when I can’t tell you about this.” He stared down and dusted his dress.

“So is this like cosplay?”

“If by cosplay, you mean, dressing like a girl since I was eight years old, yes.”

“Wow, you’re strange,” she grinned.

He giggled. “Any chance you’re into weird people?”

“Well, I’ve never had a boyfriend, but I could be, since I’m into you.”

Jamie didn’t delay occupying the space between them and dropped his lips on hers.

She seized breathing and shut her lips. Her arms laid uncomfortably on her sides. She couldn’t believe his lips touched hers. They were gentle, and his breath smelled delicious, like waffles. She lamented not brushing her teeth for the whole two minutes her dentist recommended.

“Was that awful?” He raised one eyebrow.

“No, no, no. It was awesome,” she chortled.

He sent his head back and crossed his arms. “Oh, I get it. That was your first kiss.”

“Psst, no, I’ve done it a million times.” She bluffed, rubbing her thighs.

“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes, then smirked. “Do you know how I know you’re lying?” 

She lifted an eyebrow and swayed her head.

"Because I’ve threatened any boy who’s ever dreamed about settling their mouth near your skin." He held her chin and buried another peck on her lips.