Close to Twenty

Chapter 2

"Why are you here?" I asked again.

He raised his brows. "Are you the host or something?"

I folded my arms when I noticed his eyes kept going back to my boobs. "My friend is."

He rocked on his feet and my eyes went to his shoes. He had on white air force ones and I found myself relaxing even as he snickered at my response.

"Are you getting a drink or should I leave you to your daydreaming?"

I puffed. "Wasn't daydreaming."

He was getting under my skin like old times and I saw myself as too old for such childishness. He reached behind me for some cups and I stood still as his body molded against mine. Slut, I cursed myself silently as my nipples stiffened at the brief contact.

Salim handed me a cup with clear liquid and I noticed the veins in his lean hand. It was a weird fetish but I had a thing for veiny hands. I could feel myself begin to moisten at the thought of his fingers pushing inside me.

His hand came out to caress my face and he said, "You're still so pretty, wife."

"Thanks," I said in shaky breath then drank from the cup I was holding.

"Do you want to go outside or try one of the rooms upstairs?"

"Let's go outside. I need some air." Truly.

We pushed our way through the crowd and I left the smoky air behind as we went towards the swimming pool at the back. There were couples making out around the pool but we found a spot and I took off my shoes and socks before dipping my feet into the cold water.

"It's been so long, Bey and you're so grown." Salim sat beside me after folding his jeans to his knees.

I ignored the last part. We were both nineteen and I wondered why he was surprised when he himself had changed. His voice was deeper, smoother and he had transformed from the lanky boy with the gangly arms I used to know into a lean, muscular man.

"Did you come here with someone?"

I wanted to tell him to mind his business but the animosity was unwarranted no matter how irritating I now found him. "No, but I got the ticket from a friend who's around somewhere. How's mom and dad?"

"They're both fine."

"You school around here?"

"Not really. You?" I looked at him as I asked.

He shrugged. "Something like that."

I took a rolled weed from my purse and lit it.

"You smoke now?"

"Nah, I drink," I responded then took a long drag and blew smoke towards his face.

"Still the asshole with the smart mouth."

"That was you," I retorted and we both laughed. The light went out of the weed after the second drag and for some reason I said, "I missed you."

He pulled my head to his shoulder and I rested my hand on his thigh. And just like that, we were back at the steps of our primary school waiting for my dad's driver to pick us up.

Salim was one of the most emotionally expressive persons I knew. Because he grew up with parents that kissed and hugged in front of their kids, he showed his love through subtle touches and little acts of kindness.

When we were younger, he would help me loosen my hair or peel an orange. This didn't stop him from provoking me to anger on countless occasions though. There was a time we fought over a lollipop and I scratched his eyes while he tore my uniform. Our parents had been so mad at us and my mom had ordered my dad to change my school before we killed each other. The unexplainable animosity was still there but there was something else too.