The Girlfriend Who Cared Too Much for Her Boyfriend’s Friend

Marina was twenty-four years old and one of those women who walk into a room without even trying. Brunette, average height, slim, with chestnut hair falling straight to the middle of her back and green eyes that seemed to light up when she smiled. She wasn’t a magazine beauty, but she had something more dangerous: a warmth that made anyone want to stay close.

Her only flaw, if it was a flaw, was that she liked being liked. She needed to get along with people, needed them to feel comfortable around her, and that need sometimes made her far too accommodating. Too easy to persuade.

She lived with Diego, her boyfriend, in a small apartment in the city center. Diego was twenty-eight, tall, hard-working, and loved her with the simple loyalty of someone who has never suspected a thing. He worked in sales and was out most of the day. And it was he who one night, almost apologetically, asked whether they could take in Tomás for a while, an old friend from high school who had suddenly lost his job and his home overnight.

—Just a few weeks, until he gets back on his feet —Diego said—. He has no one else.

Marina said yes before she even thought about it. She always said yes.

The first thing she noticed when Tomás arrived with his backpack and defeated expression was that he was handsome. Very handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair always tousled and blue eyes that were uncomfortable to look at for too long. She caught herself staring at him more than she should and dropped her gaze, embarrassed, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

For the first few weeks, Tomás barely spoke. He ate little, slept a lot, and spent hours in front of the television, staring into space. Diego left at dawn and came back at night, so Marina was the one living with him during the day.

And Marina’s heart broke seeing him like that.

She started looking after him almost without realizing it. She cooked his favorite dishes, kept him company when he felt like talking, and they watched shows together in the afternoons. He’s a good guy, he’s just had bad luck, she kept telling herself. And little by little, week after week, Tomás came back to life: sending out résumés, cracking jokes, laughing again. But that shadow behind the smile was still there, the one belonging to someone who has nowhere to go back to.

***

One afternoon in late May, Marina was sitting on the sofa folding laundry, barefoot, legs crossed. She was wearing a black tank top and cotton shorts. Soft music played in the background and golden light poured in through the window.

Tomás came out of the kitchen with a beer in his hand, still in pajamas, his hair even messier than usual. There was a drunken laziness in his smile, the kind that comes with a couple of drinks and, with them, a shamelessness he usually kept in check.

—Fuck, Marina… —he said, leaning against the doorframe and looking her up and down without trying to hide it—. Don’t you ever get tired of being so gorgeous all day long?

She froze for a second. Then she understood: Tomás spoke on impulse, without a filter, and with alcohol in him, even less so. She decided not to take offense and looked up naturally.

—You’re such an exaggerator —she laughed softly, continuing to fold a T-shirt—. I’m just tidying up, otherwise Diego says it looks like a hurricane came through.

—No, seriously. —He moved slowly and sat on the arm of the sofa, very close to her—. I’ve been here a month and I still can’t get used to it. You’re like… I don’t know. Like someone designed the perfect girlfriend and got it right.

Marina blushed, but took it as an innocent compliment and lowered her eyes to the clothes.

—Idiot. Thanks, I guess. —She lifted her green eyes and smiled at him tenderly—. Are you feeling better now?

Tomás leaned a little closer and lowered his voice.

—I’ve been better since I got here. Especially since I see you moving around the house. You know you have the most dangerous walk I’ve ever seen in my life?

—Stop it, come on, you’re making me blush. —She laughed nervously, but didn’t move away—. I walk normally, okay? It’s not my fault these shorts are comfortable.

—It’s not the shorts. —He lowered his voice even more, until it was a conspiratorial whisper—. It’s everything. The way you tie up your hair, the way you bite your lip when you think, the way you smile even when you’re dead tired. You’re too… appetizing. And you know it.

Marina blinked, confused, trying to keep taking it as a compliment despite the brazenness.

—I’m just trying to be nice —she stammered, shaking her head—. I like people feeling comfortable at home. And you’re Diego’s friend, so of course I want you to be okay.

Then he stretched out his hand and brushed her bare arm with his fingertips, very softly, as if testing her.

—What if I told you I don’t want to be “okay” right now? I want to be much better. With you.

Marina went still, feeling the touch. She didn’t pull away. Her voice came out lower, almost sweet.

—Tomás… Don’t say things like that. Diego would be furious if he heard you.

But he didn’t take his hand away. He slid it slowly to her shoulder, massaging it just a little.

—Diego isn’t here. And you are, getting nervous, but not telling me to stop. —He leaned in until his breath brushed her ear—. Doesn’t that tell you something?

She swallowed. Her green eyes shone, wet, a mix of confusion and that need of hers not to upset anyone colliding head-on with the discomfort of the situation.

—I don’t know… —she began uncertainly, looking away—. I just want everything to be fine. I don’t want you to feel bad here. But I don’t like the way you’re talking to me either…

Tomás smiled, slow, victorious, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

—You’re not being rude. You’re too nice. And that’s exactly what’s driving me crazy. —His voice was almost a purr—. Tell me to stop if you really want me to stop. But say it clearly. Because if you don’t say it, I’m going to think that deep down you like being looked at like this.

Marina’s breathing quickened. Her lips parted, her gaze lost between the laundry and the floor. She whispered, almost inaudibly:

—I don’t want you to leave feeling bad… But stop, please. Please…

He moved closer until their noses almost touched, speaking against her lips.

—Then don’t make me leave feeling bad. Let me stay a little closer.

Silence fell. Only her breathing could be heard, becoming more irregular by the second. She didn’t say no. She didn’t say yes either. She stayed there, motionless, while Tomás finished sliding over until he was sitting beside her, one knee pressed against hers.

After a few endless seconds, Marina looked him in the eyes with a mix of nerves and something deeper, almost surrender.

—Don’t make me tell you to stop —she whispered, her voice trembling—. Because I don’t want you to stop.

And she leaned in first.

***

Her lips brushed his with a softness that was almost shy, as if checking whether it was real. Tomás answered at once, but without rushing, letting her set the pace. The kiss grew slowly: first tender, exploratory, then deeper, hungrier. Marina’s hands rose to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. He held her by the waist and pulled her over until she ended up straddling his lap, without breaking the kiss for a single second.

—You’re even sweeter than I imagined —he muttered against her mouth.

She smiled, eyes blazing.

—Shut up and kiss me. Like that. Slower.

They devoured each other for what felt like minutes. Tomás’s hands roamed her back beneath the T-shirt, feeling her hot skin; Marina sighed every time he squeezed her waist a little tighter. There was no hurry, only touches that grew more intimate by the second. She kissed his neck, leaving wet trails that made him close his eyes.

—I like the way you smell —she murmured, running her nose along his jaw—. You make me feel things I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop.

—Then don’t stop —he replied, holding her tighter.

Marina pulled back slightly to look at him, with an expression of pure sweetness, and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

—Listen to me. This is our secret, okay? Nobody can know. Not Diego, not anyone. —She kissed the corner of his mouth—. Because if he finds out, it’s over. And I don’t want it to be over.

—I know. We’ll be careful. Very careful —he promised.

She smiled, mischievous and tender all at once, and pressed closer to him, her chest against his torso.

—Careful, but no less intense —she whispered—. I want you to always look at me the way you’re looking at me now. Like I’m the only thing that exists. Because with you I feel truly desired. And I love it.

She kissed him again, this time slower, deeper. She moved softly against him, a subtle rocking that drew a small moan from both of them.

***

A few minutes passed. Marina rested her forehead against his, eyes closed, as if sorting through thoughts she didn’t want to let go of completely.

—I’m not doing this to hurt Diego —she said quietly, almost maternally, stroking his hair—. I swear. He’s good to me, he looks after me, he loves me. But you got here wrecked. With nothing, nowhere to go, with that face like you hadn’t slept in weeks. And every time I saw you in the kitchen staring at your phone, not knowing what to do… it broke my heart.

Tomás tried to speak, but she put a finger on his lips.

—It’s not just attraction, although… God, of course it is. —She smiled, embarrassed but sincere—. But mostly I can’t stand seeing you suffer. And when you look at me like I’m the only beautiful thing that’s happened to you in a long time… I can’t say no to you.

She leaned in and gave him a slow, almost chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth.

—I know it’s wrong —she continued, pressed against him—. I know it’s crazy. But when I see you relax with me, I feel like I’m doing something good. Even if it’s a secret. Even if it’s a sin.

He held her tighter, burying his face in her neck.

—No one’s ever looked at me like this before. Like I actually mattered.

—Then let me keep looking at you like this —she asked, kissing his forehead and closed eyelids—. Let me take care of you. But we have to be very smart, Tomás. Diego can never find out. Because if he does, he won’t just destroy us. He’ll destroy himself. And I want him to stay happy. And I want you to be happy here too. With me. In silence. In our stolen moments.

She took his hand and placed it against her chest, over her heart, so he could feel how fast it was beating.

—Every time we’re alone I’m going to make you feel like you’re not alone. Like someone truly loves you. But only when no one is looking.

—I promise —he answered, and kissed her forehead for a long time.

***

Marina noticed that he was trembling a little. Not from the cold, but from that mixture of built-up anxiety and restrained desire he didn’t know how to let out. She felt it in his quickened breathing against her neck, in how he clung to her waist as if afraid it would all disappear.

—Easy —she whispered against his ear, in that voice that calmed storms—. You’re shaking. It’s okay. I’m here. Let me help you forget everything bad, even if only for a little while.

Without waiting for an answer, she moved with deliberate slowness. She braced her knees on either side of his hips and, carefully, almost reverently, pulled his sweatpants down just enough. Then she took off her shorts in one fluid motion and was left only in her tank top and underwear.

Tomás watched her with wide eyes, not daring to move, as if he were afraid of breaking the moment.

—I just want you to feel good —she told him, looking at him—. To stop thinking about what you don’t have. Let me take care of you like this.

She settled over him slowly, guiding him with her hand. When she felt him inside her, she let out a long sigh, almost of relief, as if she were the one who needed that closeness as much as he did. She began to move with a very slow, hypnotic rocking, without force, seeking only to soothe. Her palms rested on his chest, feeling his racing heart under her fingers.

—Look me in the eyes —she asked, her voice hoarse, gently forcing him not to look away—. Like that. Breathe with me. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me give you this. Let me make you feel desired. Safe.

Tomás moaned softly, his hands sliding up her thighs to her hips, not to guide her, but to hold on to her like an anchor. Marina leaned forward, her chest brushing his torso through the thin fabric, and kissed his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, never breaking that calm rhythm.

—Do you feel how all the bad stuff is falling away? —she whispered—. This is for you. Just for you. So you know that here, with me, you’ll always have somewhere to hide.

She sped up only a little, just enough for him to feel the heat, the surrender. She wasn’t chasing a quick climax, but stretching out the feeling of closeness. Her hips circled in broad, slow motions, tightening each time she came down.

Tomás’s hands slid over her back beneath the T-shirt and she arched slightly, offering herself more, but without losing control of the pace.

—When you’re close —she told him, brokenly but always tender—, let it out. Let me take it all. I want to take your sadness, your fear. Everything.

He panted, head thrown back. Marina accelerated as much as needed, feeling him tighten beneath her. When he hit the edge, she pressed herself to him, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and kissed him deeply while he emptied himself inside her with a muffled groan against her mouth. She didn’t stop completely: she kept moving very slowly, prolonging the aftershocks, soothing him with strokes through his hair.

—There. It’s over. It passed —she whispered, her lips against his temple, rocking him—. You’re calmer now, right? That’s what I wanted. For you to feel at peace.

She stayed on top of him, holding him, both breathing in sync, sweaty, calm.

***

The next morning, Marina opened her eyes slowly and stared at the note Diego had left on the bedside table before going to work: a badly drawn heart and “Love you, see you in the afternoon.”

She smiled. She rolled over and looked at the ceiling. There was no guilt on her face, only a strange calm, almost serene. She got up, walked barefoot to the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror. Messy hair, lips still slightly swollen. She didn’t look away in disgust or guilt: she simply watched herself, as if checking that everything had gone well.

She turned on the hot water, soaked a small towel, and began to clean herself with slow, almost affectionate movements. As she did, she spoke softly to herself, finishing a conversation that had begun the night before.

—It wasn’t making love —she murmured, in a soft voice—. It was helping him. Just helping him breathe better. Sleep without nightmares. Get up today with a little light in his eyes.

She looked at herself again and smiled, without malice.

—If Tomás is happy, Diego will notice. And if his friend is doing well, Diego will be calmer at home. It all fits. —She chuckled under her breath, like someone who has just solved a simple puzzle—. It’s as if I’m taking care of both of them at once. Without anyone having to suffer.

She splashed cold water on her face and stood for a second with her hands on the edge of the sink, looking at her reflection. Her green eyes shone with an almost childlike clarity.

—I’m not cheating on Diego —she whispered, convinced—. I’m giving him a happier friend. A calmer home. That’s not betrayal. That’s… love. The kind that makes other people better without them knowing why.

She put on a short satin robe, tied the belt in a loose knot, and stepped out into the hallway. Tomás was in the living room, sitting on the freshly made sofa bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. When he saw her, he looked up and his eyes lit up. A shy but genuine smile appeared on his face.

—Good morning —she greeted him, warmly—. Did you sleep well?

—Better than I have in weeks —he replied, not taking his eyes off her—. Thanks to you.

Marina walked over, bent down, and gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, stroking his hair for a second.

—I’m glad. Very glad. —She straightened and smiled—. I’m going to make coffee. Want toast?

And she went into the kitchen humming some random song. In her mind, everything made perfect sense: Tomás lighter, Diego happier to see him like that, and her in the middle, being the bridge, the one who cares, the one who helps. No guilt. Only that peace of hers, the peace of someone who truly believes she’s doing the right thing.