What happens when you
T
he radio alarm clicked on
and Silverchair’s “Straight
Lines” filled the sun-soaked
room. Si* shifted in the bed
beside me, before gently pulling his leg
from under mine. “Zo?” he whispered,
then slipped out to make coffee.
Si was my best friend. We were
inseparable, always cooking dinner to-
gether or pitching up as each other’s
plus ones. Our friends often joked that
we should just get together. “You act like
a couple,” many of them observed.
As the long Sydney summer had
stretched on, I noticed something was
different. Suddenly text messages fromSi made my stomach flip, and his voice
on the phone made me ache. I wondered
if he felt the same. Was he flirting? Were
there extra kisses at the end of his texts?
Then one evening, Si had an idea.
“Fuck it,” he said, as he squeezed limes
for mojitos, “let’s pull a sickie.” I didn’t
take much persuading. We drank more
cocktails as we planned our day off – a
long breakfast at our favourite cafe,
then we’d head down to the park with
the papers to sprawl on a rug.
It was getting late. “Why don’t you
stay?” he suggested. He gave me a
T-shirt to sleep in and dug out a tooth-
brush. And then we fell into his bed.Nothing really happened, and yet it
was an intimate night. We held on to
each other and slept with our limbs
entwined. He kissed the top of my head
and stroked my back under my T-shirt. I
lay as still as I could. I knew if I tilted my
head just so, our mouths could meet, but
something was stopping me.
Si appeared in the doorway holding
two steaming mugs. “I left a voicemail
for my boss, told her I’m feeling under
the weather,” he said, putting on a
croaky voice. We drank our coffee in
bed, snuggled up like lovers.
Later, after we’d spent the day to-
gether, I met my girlfriends for dinner.fall in love with your best friend –
only to discover your sister has, too?
‘
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