Animate Me / Chapter Nine / Extra-Special Best Friends

“That’s a good little boy.” ~Betty Boop

When we finally pull apart from our hug she looks down at the beer, and then back at me with her eyebrows raised.

“Are you planning on getting me drunk tonight?”

“No,” I stammer. “This is just proof of my intention to keep coming back.”

“Oh,” she smiles warmly. “I like that. Come on, let’s see how many we can fit in the fridge.”

I pick up the cases and follow her to the kitchen, enjoying the sublime yoga pants view. I don’t know when I’ve ever been happier.

Tonight she’s feeding me Middle Eastern food: beef and chicken shawarma, tabouleh, fattoush salad and hummus with pita bread. Although delicious, I note that this stuff is loaded with garlic. Is this an evil plot to avoid kissing me? I’m onto her strategy but I have my own. As we finish I pull out a stick of mint gum and offer her one too.

“So I’m meeting with Sharper Edge again next Friday about my comic book. Actually it’s lunch with the publisher,” I tell her while she takes a sip of beer.

Her eyes get big. “So this is serious,” she says, grinning. “They must really want your series. Do you want this deal? It can lead to the big time.”

I start to peel the label off my beer bottle while I think about it. “Well, I want the big time, but at what price? I’ve done a lot of research and I don’t want to give up the rights to my characters.”

She looks at me and shakes her head. “You know it’s almost impossible to hold onto your rights. They will demand ownership unless there’s a very compelling reason that they want your particular property.”

“Well, then I may have to walk away,” I say firmly.

“And you’re willing to do that?” She asks studying me carefully.

“You bet.”

Her face lights up and she lifts her bottle to clink with mine. “Here’s to artistic integrity.”

“Hear, hear,” I agree, and we take long sips with our lips curled up. If I do what the studio wants, there are all kinds of possibilities for money and prestige. So the fact that she wants what is best for me as an artist, no matter what the cost, makes me love her even more.

Later in her home office, I show her the rough layout for the website. She leans over my shoulder, and the sweet smell of pears surrounds me. Normally if she were this close to me, she would rest her hand on my upper back, or brush her fingers against my arm, but I’m painfully aware that she isn’t touching me. She’s remaining true to her word.

“Oh, that looks so good,” she moans. “Where’d you find that font?”

“Genna loaned it to me. She’s a font expert.”

“Well, thank her for me.”

I turn towards her and smile, her face close enough to kiss. She swiftly pulls back and sits down on the edge of the bed. I ache at the distance between us. I want to kiss her so much.

She looks at me, then out the window. What’s she thinking?

“Another beer?” she looks distracted.

“Sure.” I nod.

When she returns from the kitchen and hands it to me, she’s watching me intently. At times like these I worry that she can look straight into my heart and see that I’m hopelessly in love with her. And if she did learn that, I fear I would no longer be welcome here, no longer be part of her life. So I bite my tongue, and turn back towards her computer screen.

She finally speaks. “Nathan?”

“Uh huh,” I reply while I wait for another image to import.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

I turn towards her and tip my head, trying to figure out what she’s really trying to say.

“What I mean is that I’m really glad that we’re still friends,” she says quietly.

She still likes me. Maybe I still have a chance. I grin at her and she grins back in response.

“Me too, Brooke.”

Several beers later, and done with our work, we’re sprawled out on opposite ends of her couch.

“When are you going to let me see your comic book? I’m waiting for you to want me to read it.”

Damn. How do I explain to her that my main character looks like her? It never seemed like an issue when I admired her from afar, but now…

“Well, um…” I stutter. Damn. I can feel my face turning red.

“I just hope you know that the longer you make me wait, the higher my expectations are going to be,” she teases, waving her beer bottle at me.

Despite the tension, the beer buzz gives me courage. “Hey, have you ever told a white lie to get something you really wanted?”

“A white lie?” she asks, her expression unreadable.

“Uh, huh.”

She makes a face. “I hate all lies—white, black or whatever…always have. Besides if you have to lie to get something, you shouldn’t have it in the first place.”

I feel all the blood drain from my head, and I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating.

“Why?” She asks.

Good job, stupid. Okay…I’m completely screwed. She’s going to hate me. And just like that I lose my courage.

“Sometimes I just have trouble saying what I really feel,” I stutter.

“I know it can be hard, Nathan. But you always have to try. I know, why don’t you tell me how it’s been seeing me tonight after all of our ups and downs this week?”

I look over at her and she seems a million miles away perched on the far arm of the couch. I can’t talk about the big lie now, but I can address the immediate issue. I look down at my shoes and my fingers curl over my knees. “It’s been great seeing you, Brooke, but can we talk about the touching thing?”

“Okay, if you really want to.” I notice her fingers tighten over the beer bottle. “But, I’m hands free from now on, I promise.”

I swallow hard and push my hair out of my eyes. “But that’s my point; I don’t want you to be.”

She looks at me confused. “But I thought that’s why you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“My problem wasn’t because you’ve touched me. Believe me. I was just so humiliated to have you learn the most embarrassing thing about me. Only a complete loser would still be this inexperienced at my age. And because of that I felt like I couldn’t face you again.”

I close my eyes, folding my arms tightly over my chest. “But the last two days have been hell. Not facing you meant sacrificing your friendship, and that’s far worse than you knowing what a total loser I am.”

She crawls down to my side of the couch, pulls my arms apart and curls up under my shoulder. It feels so good to have her close to me. I guess the touching embargo is over. I take a deep breath and pull her closer.

“You’re not a total loser, Nathan.” She takes my beer out of my hand and takes a swig, then hands it back. “I think you’re great.”

I smile at her and her compliment encourages me to ask for more. “Besides,” I continue, “you know the worst about me now, and you still want to be friends. If you don’t care that I’m inept, than neither will I. If you want to help me, well then, I welcome it.”

“Really?”

“I want you to help me, and teach me. The times you kissed and touched me made me feel so…amazing.”

“Oh, Nathan.” She smiles sweetly at me. “Promise me though, that you’ll tell me when I make you uncomfortable.”

“Like you drinking from my beer without asking?”

She elbows me softly.

“Just kidding, I liked your lips on my beer bottle. And as for sharing, from now on I’m really going to try to be an open book.”

“Okay, me too then,” she agrees.

Later at her door she wraps her arms around me.

“Are we okay?” she asks.

I nod, incredibly happy that things are good with us now.

“Am I your best friend again?” She teases.

“I would say so,” I confirm. “Although I’ve never kissed my best friend. So I guess that makes you an extra-special best friend.”

“Good, I like the way that sounds.”

I look down at my feet. “Brooke, does Arnold mind that we’re best friends?”

“He set these open relationship rules, didn’t he? He can’t complain about them now,” she answers cryptically.

“You know, if you were mine, I wouldn’t share you with anyone,” I say softly.

“Really?” She smiles widely. “That’s so sweet, Nathan.”

She thinks I’m just trying to be nice, but it’s true. It’s another in a long list of reasons why I’m better for her than Arnold.

I’m almost to the gate when I turn around.

“Hey, Brooke?” I call out.

“Yes?” she asks.

“I just wanted you to know that I really, really love it when you kiss and touch me.”

“Is that so?” she asks.

“Yeah, so please don’t stop no matter how goofy I get. Okay?”

She laughs. “Okay, I won’t.”

• • •

The next afternoon in her office she pulls me over to the couch as soon as I pass through the door.

“Well, hello to you too.” I say grinning, handing over her coffee.

“I forgot to ask last night, how your date with Dani last Saturday went. Did it go well?”

I blanch. That faux date seems a million years ago and completely insignificant now that Brooke and I are extra-special best friends again. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?” she asks.

“Well, I was in a bit of a state after my big reveal at the Smokehouse.”

“Oh…oh, yeah.” She moans sinking back against the couch. “What bad timing.”

“And the movie sucked.”

“You saw a movie? You never see a movie during the first stage of dating.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, was the kiss at least good?”

Oh for God’s sake, she isn’t going to let this go.

“We didn’t kiss. I guess I’m still not comfortable kissing anyone but you.” I say, hoping she doesn’t realize how embarrassed I am.

“Well, I’m flattered, but I should feel guilty because that isn’t very productive.”

“Don’t feel bad for helping me, Brooke,” I insist. I wish I had the courage to tell her how I really feel.

She grins. She almost seems relieved that my date didn’t go well.

“Hey, if I may change the subject? Dani reminded me that the Rose Bowl swap meet is this Sunday in Pasadena. Do you want to go? There may be some of those great vases you like…the ones shaped like ladies heads waiting just for you.”

“As much as I’d like to check out those lady-head vases, do you really think I should go with you and Dani?”

“No, I was talking about just you and me. And I thought we could stop by my parents afterwards for brunch.”

“Why don’t you take Dani?”

“Because I want to go with you. We’ll have fun.”

I’m happy because I know this is something she loves, and I can give it to her when Arnold won’t. I want her to understand that I really care about what she likes to do.

She makes a face at me, but I also sense that she’s pleased and tempted.

“Besides, you and I are the real collectors.”

“Okay, I’ll go,” she confirms. “It’s been a while and I’ve missed going so much. The only thing is that I may be a little tired. I have a party I have to go to on Saturday night.” I can see her mind figuring something out. “Why don’t you let me pick you up?”

Yeah, I don’t really want to pick up Brooke from Arnold’s where he answers the door with a towel around his six-packed waist.

“Okay. I’ll email you my address and directions. How’s seven a.m.? You know you have to get there early to get the good stuff.” A side benefit to an early start is the sooner I get her away from Arnold the better.

“Are you nuts? Eight, and not a minute earlier.”

At three minutes after eight I look out my living room window again. What if she forgets and doesn’t show up? It was pretty forward of me to ask her to come, but she did say we’re best friends now. This is the kind of stuff best friends do…right?

A moment later I get a text.

Sorry-late, but in the car, be there in ten.

Relieved to know she didn’t forget, I reply.

Great, see you then.

I go into the kitchen and get a dishtowel to wrap around her macchiato to keep it warm. I had them make it extra hot but that was twenty minutes ago so I want to make sure it’s how she likes it.

Pacing back and forth through my house looking for things to straighten, I try to imagine seeing my place through Brooke’s eyes. She loves cartoons so that’s a plus since there are figurines and framed animation cels throughout the house.

I normally have Delia, my parent’s housekeeper come clean my house only every other week to keep it from being a pig sty, but I had her make an extra visit yesterday just to make sure everything was clean. And before she came I took all the piles of junk lying around and shoved them in the closets. Thank God Delia does my laundry or I’d have piles of dirty clothes all over the house. As it is she always gives me a hard time for only having beer, milk for my cereal and Cheese Whiz in the fridge.

Despite my college dorm tendencies, I feel a sense of pride as I walk through the rooms. I love my little house, and I really hope she likes it too. I look out the window again just as her Prius pulls up in front and I excitedly go out to the front porch to greet her.

I watch her take in all the landscaping as she walks under the arbor and up the winding brick walkway. She stops to smell some roses and then looks up at me and smiles. “Wow, Nathan. Look at this yard!”

“Do you like it?” I ask hopefully, and am suddenly glad that I let the landscape guy have his way with my yard. If it had been up to me it would have ended up crabgrass and strangely shaped topiaries.

“Like it? I love it!” she exclaims. “Was it like this when you bought the house?”

“No actually the yard was pretty awful when I moved in. But my brother Curtis was involved with an interior designer at the time, and her partner was a landscape architect. He did the designs.”

“I love the funky painted garden gnomes. Are they your touch?”

“How’d you guess?” I smile watching her reaction to everything…so far so good. I jam my hands in my pockets nervously. “Do you want to come inside for a minute?”

“Sure,” she steps onto the porch and gives me a hug.

When I open the door and we step inside, she smiles. “Oh my, Nathan, what’s this?”

“My living room,” I answer sheepishly.

She’s reacting to the glass cases full of figurines that line the room. Each wall is a different bright color. The only pieces of furniture in the room are two leather chairs and a coffee table covered with comic books.

“Who or what was your inspiration here?”

“Pee-wee Herman,” I answer honestly. I go over and flip the switch that lights up all the cases. I always get a thrill when I do that. The spotlight on my bronze Rocketeer sculpture makes it glow.

“Wow! So this is Nathan’s playhouse? Did the designer do this for you?”

“The designer quit the job because of this room. I was very insistent about what I wanted and she hated it. Actually I was glad when she quit because then I got to finish the house the way I wanted.”

She smiles warmly at me. “It’s like a gallery, or a collectible store. Have Dani or any of the girls you know seen this?”

“Nope, you’re the first.”

“Ahhh. Well, show me more.”

The dining room has a space age Jetson’s table and chairs that I found on eBay. Once I had them I went nuts with the theme. I also have a sixties starburst light fixture and vintage Disneyland Tomorrowland posters on the wall. I point out my framed Jetson’s animation cel that hangs above the side table with pride.

“Look, it’s signed by Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera.”

She examines it closely. “Cool,” she says softly. “I love how much thought and effort you’ve put into everything.”

“Thanks,” I say proudly. If she only knew how much it means to me that she likes my house. “Will you hang out with me here some time?”

She smiles, “Sure.”

She’s particularly interested in my home studio and studies the art on the wall and the way my animation table is set up. This is the room most out of control with piles of books and drawings on every surface. Luckily I’ve stashed away my B-Girl art in the flat files though as I’m still not ready to show her that.

“Is this where you work on your comic book?” she asks.

I nod. “But I put that stuff away. I’ll show it to you another time.”

She makes a face at me, but doesn’t argue. She knows how to handle artists.

As we move to the end of the hall, I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to show her my bedroom or not. I hesitate in the doorway and look down at my feet.

“This is…my room.”

She looks up at me, and hesitates, but then wanders inside. She takes in the wall of windows facing the back garden. “Wow,” she says quietly.

I give her a moment as she approaches my bookshelves and takes in the titles, along with my DVDs and CDs.

“Wow, you have really eclectic taste,” she comments. “I’m impressed.” She finally turns towards the elephant in the room. “And what a bed!”

“It’s pretty grand, huh?” I ask happily. I love my bed. I even painted the dramatic headboard with my own design. “Here you have to test it out. Lay down.”

She raises her eyebrows, but climbs up on the bed anyway. When she’s all the way on she turns and sinks into the midnight blue velvet covered duvet. “Nice,” she sighs.

“Wait till you see the best part!” I climb on and lie down next to her then reach over for the remote. “Ready?”

“I think so,” she laughs.

I press a button and the foot of her side the bed slowly lifts, elevating her legs.

“Woooo,” she hoots.

Next I press another button and the head of my side the bed lifts.

“Does it vibrate too?” she asks laughing.

I grin and press another button.

“Wo-o-o-o-Ho-o-o-o,” she exclaims with the vibration in her voice. “Hell yeah…this is better than Disneyland! I’d never get out of bed. Let me try it!”

She reaches over for the remote but I pull it away as I keep pressing the different buttons. Next thing you know we’ve got an I Love Lucy episode going. The sides are quickly lifting at different times, while the bed madly vibrates. In her effort to get the remote we end up wrestling for it and my tenacity takes over. We’re both howling with laughter and grabbing at each other.

But I’m stronger and suddenly I’m on top of her, pinning her to the mattress while one hand holds her wrists down over her head, and the other waves the remote over her head.

“Oh no you don’t!” I taunt. “No one but me plays with the magic remote.”

I suddenly realize that she’s not laughing anymore, and instead her eyebrows are raised as she lifts her head off the mattress and looks down towards where I’m pressed over her. I take a breath and follow her gaze to see her legs spread wide open while my pelvis is pressed right there. As I shift I realize that I am completely aroused and rubbing against her. I freeze, embarrassed. We’re still and silent, only the sound and movement of the vibrating bed filling up the room.

“Nathan,” she whispers. I think I hear longing in her voice but I can’t be sure.

The only thing I’m certain of is that Brooke is on my bed. Not just on my bed, but beautifully, seductively, gloriously pressed against me on my bed and I am dangling somewhere between panic and my supreme happy place. If I were a cartoon character my eyes would be bugging out of my head, and my tongue hanging to the ground while I howled. But I’m a man, and my lust soars as I look into her eyes and feel her thighs spread wide and her legs wrap around me.

Everything I want is underneath me. Do I roll away and apologize for being so forward or show Brooke how much I desire her in every way?