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Milo’s entire left arm was asleep. It was nothing but dead weight from his shoulder to his fingertips. Ivy snored softly against him. She hadn’t wanted to be alone last night; she insisted he come in and watch a movie with her. They must have fallen asleep at some point. The sun peeked in through the blinds. Milo had no idea what time it was.

He looked down at where Ivy curled into his side. She wore nothing but an oversized T-shirt, and he presumed underwear. Her bare legs pressed up against his. Milo groaned inwardly and let his head rest on the pillows behind them. How was he supposed to be her friend if she ended up half-naked in bed next to him? Surely this was asking too much? He wasn’t a saint or a eunuch.

He wiggled his fingers, and pins and needles ran up and down the length of his arm. He winced, and Ivy stirred. She yawned and stretched while he stared at the ceiling and attempted to forget how warm and soft her body had been next to his. 

“Morning.” Her voice was thick from sleep. “Thanks for staying over.”

His gaze roved the room, looking for any place to land that wasn’t on her sleep-mussed hair, her bare thighs, or her kissable mouth. “Yeah, sure. I should probably go.”

Ivy’s eyes widened as he hopped up from the bed. He hadn’t moved that fast in the morning since he was nine and way too hyper for his own good. 

“Do you have to go so soon?” She looked up at him from the rumpled bed; the bed they hadn’t had sex in. Milo wondered if she was torturing him on purpose. “I could make pancakes. I’m pretty good at pancakes.”

“I can’t…”

“Okay, how about waffles?” She swung her legs out of bed and stood in front of him. 

“No, I mean I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean? Do what?” Ivy wrapped her arms around herself. He hated how small and vulnerable she looked without her painted lips.

“Do this.” He waved his hands around her, gesturing to the entire situation. He wanted to explain without sounding like a total dick, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of ways to do that. He was hoping she would just figure it out.

Her brow crinkled and her signature scowl appeared on her mouth. “You can’t hang out with me? Eat breakfast? What?” Ivy stepped closer, her voice a menacing rasp. “What exactly can’t you do anymore, Milo?”

“I can’t pretend to be your friend anymore when I want to be more than that!” He snapped and everything came pouring out. “I can’t wake up next to you half-naked and pretend I don’t want to touch you! I can’t watch you date complete assholes and then pick up the pieces!” 

He couldn’t meet her eyes as he spoke, so he focused on the Ani Difranco poster on the wall behind her. Ani was definitely judging him. I’m outnumbered.

Milo was perfectly aware of how he sounded. He sounded like a jerk. But he had two choices: be the guy who pretends he wants to be friends with a woman while really wanting to get in her pants or be the guy who ends the friendship because he can’t stand being so close to someone he can never have. Either way, he loses. Either way, he’s an asshole.

“I thought you were different.” 

The accusation hit him so hard he wished she smacked him instead. “I am different!”

“You’re not! You’re the same as Anna’s fiancé, Dylan, and every other guy who wants nothing more than to fuck me!” She was in his face, so close he could see how heavily she was breathing. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. 

“I am not like those guys and you know it.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I want you, Ivy. All of you. And I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t. It’s not fair to either of us.”

She took a step back as though he struck her and slumped down onto the bed. 

“I gotta go.” Milo grabbed his keys off the nightstand and found his shoes by the door of her bedroom. He left her sitting on the edge of the bed and didn’t look back.

Ivy didn’t try to stop him.

Featured image by Annie Spratt via Unsplash