My best friend and I stopped pretending that night

As the weeks went by, and after what had happened between us, Adrián and I began moving through territory neither of us knew how to name.

We were good friends, we had always been. But after that summer afternoon, something had shifted forever. It was no longer just friendship that held us together. Something else had appeared between us: a more intimate trust, an invisible brush in every glance, a feeling neither of us dared to say out loud, but that we both carried like an unavoidable truth.

We sought each other out more and more. Any excuse was enough to see each other, to steal a little time together, to sink into that calm that only appeared when he was near. And I say calm, but it was much more than that. I loved listening to him, watching how everything seemed simpler by his side, as if the whole world were reduced to his voice and my breathing.

Without realizing it, we began to depend on each other. Even without putting it into words, we knew that what this was no longer resembled any relationship either of us had had before. Things were changing, and so were we, a little more each day, though no one around us suspected a thing.

***

One Friday, two weeks after that night, the news I had been waiting for finally arrived.

I had gotten my period.

I breathed for the first time in days. I felt the fear dissolve all at once, leaving me light, almost happy. I didn’t hesitate: I dialed his number. He deserved that peace too; we both needed it.

—Hello… how are you this morning? —he asked in that sweet tone he always used to greet me with.

—Adrián, it’s me. It happened… finally got my period —I blurted out, euphoric.

—Yeah?

—Yes, it’s over. We can relax.

—I’m glad, baby, you’ll be able to relax now —he said. But there was something in his voice, something that didn’t match the joy I had expected.

—Aren’t you happy? —I asked, unsettled.

—Of course I’m happy, little one… —he answered with his usual warmth—, but if it had happened, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world either.

I froze.

Did he really just say that?

—Would you have wanted me to…? —I couldn’t finish the sentence.

—It’s not that I’m planning on becoming a father right now —he sighed—, but if it had happened, I’d be happy it was with you.

His words went straight through me. I didn’t know what to say. I felt relieved, truly relieved. After so many days of anguish, I could finally breathe without the air getting stuck in my throat.

—Don’t overthink it… Tomorrow we’ll celebrate, okay? —his voice regained its usual brightness—. What do you think?

—Sounds good… what do you suggest? —I replied, letting myself be carried away by his enthusiasm.

That day the shadow that had been following us for weeks disappeared. For a moment, everything felt clean again, like our friendship. Or what was left of it.

***

Several months later came Mateo’s birthday party, a mutual friend’s. In everyone else’s eyes, Adrián and I were still exactly the same as always. No one suspected a thing, no one could guess what was happening between us. Neither what we had done, nor what we had felt afterward, much less what we were still keeping secret. To the rest of the world we were nothing more than friends. Nothing else.

That Saturday the plan was simple: an elegant dinner, a couple of dances, a few drinks somewhere where it would be impossible to hold a conversation, and then everyone home.

At least, that was what the others thought.

Because between us, we had other plans. Every gesture said something else, every look hid a secret.

It was just another Saturday, or so it seemed. An ordinary weekend day. And yet, as I got ready, I felt the nervous tingle of someone preparing for something intimate. To everyone else it was a casual outing; to me, almost a disguised date.

When we arrived, everything unfolded as always: jokes, complicity, easy laughter. Nothing gave away that something had changed. And yet, every time I felt his eyes on me, a wave of heat ran through me. He did nothing obvious, I stayed almost distant, but there was something in his gaze that touched me more than any caress.

After dinner, the group decided to head down to the harbor area, where the trendy places were packed with people. There, amid shoving, lights, and noise, it happened.

In a moment of distraction, in half-light, we kissed.

It wasn’t a stolen kiss or a frantic one, but a warm, slow one, wrapped in a tenderness that made me tremble. We kissed in the middle of the street, they could see us, we were in front of everyone, and yet it was as if the whole world had disappeared. He held me, pressing me against his body with a protective gentleness that completely undid me. His hand stroking my cheek felt like the silent confession of everything he had been holding back for so long.

That kiss, so different from the one that first night —less desperate, more real—, revealed something I had been afraid to admit: my desires and my hopes were not mine alone. He was in exactly the same place I was, even if he tried hard to hide it.

We took advantage of the others getting distracted at the bar entrance to slip away. I was exhausted from pretending, I craved a moment alone with him, without looks or masks, and he seemed to want the same. We walked almost without touching hands, without talking about it, as if not saying it meant not feeling it. As if the world had finally pushed us to stop pretending what we had wanted for so long.

When I saw the car leave the usual route, I asked where we were going.

He answered with a dark, knowing smile.

—I thought we could spend a little time alone. And the best place for that is where we’re going.

We were headed to his maternal grandparents’ estate, a secluded place but close to the city, built atop a privileged hill.

***

When we arrived, a large gate greeted us, barely lit by the car’s headlights. Adrián got out, unlocked it, and slid the metal gate aside. When he got back in, he smiled at me, his hand brushing my cheek.

—Are you okay?

—Yes… happy —I replied, feeling that I could finally admit it.

He nodded and we kept going.

The gate closed behind us, keeping our little secret safe. We drove along a dirt road. In the distance I saw a modest little house, almost hidden among the vegetation. We kept going until the land opened onto a ravine. There, at one end, a wooden gazebo stood like a silent altar. At its feet, the city shone immense, beautiful, like an offering.

Adrián parked nearby and left the lights on for a moment.

—Come, I want to show you something —he said as he got out.

I approached slowly. He was leaning against the hood, one leg bent, his gaze fixed on the view. The contrast between the serenity of the landscape and the tension in my chest left me breathless. I stayed a few steps back, dazzled by the place and by him. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I knew —I felt— that tonight there would be an inevitable return to what I wanted so badly.

Then he held out his hand.

When I took it, he pulled me firmly, guiding me to his body. His chest was warm and safe, and when I leaned against him I felt that perfect mix of calm and desire only he could provoke in me. His arms wrapped around me, sheltering me.

Adrián was a big man, strong, with an imposing presence. By his side I felt small, protected, deeply feminine. My curves, my wide hips, my full chest: they had never been a problem for him. On the contrary, he seemed to appreciate them as part of what attracted him to me.

The night seemed to be holding its breath, just like we were.

There, beneath that immense sky, he held me as if I were the only solid thing in all that darkness. His embrace was warm, firm, and my body fitted against his without me needing to think about it. It fit perfectly. I felt the rise and fall of his breathing, the tautness in his arms, that anxiety he didn’t put into words but that my closeness drove into his body, and it made my skin prickle.

The stars shone above us, silent witnesses to how his chest sought mine, to how the night conspired with what our bodies were feeling. I clung to him, to his warmth, to that closeness that was dangerous only because it made me forget everything else. And between his strength and my surrender, the world seemed to stop, leaving us suspended in a desire that burned me in time with our breathing.

His hand stayed at my waist, but it was no longer an innocent caress. It marked my skin, leaving the trace of his nails digging in with involuntary desperation. He stroked from my thighs upward, firm, determined, as if he knew exactly the point where my skin became fragile. His fingers reached the place they were seeking and pressed, just enough to send a shiver from my belly to the nape of my neck.

—Look at me —he ordered in a whisper.

I turned and did.

His gaze caught me, dark, intense, full of a desire I had only sensed until then. He held my chin with his fingers, tilting my face toward his. The closeness of his lips was a delicious torture; I felt them so near and yet so far, that my breathing broke before he even touched me.

When he finally kissed me, it wasn’t gentle.

It was deep. Unrestrained.

His hands moved slowly up my sides, as if he wanted to memorize every part of me. I leaned a little toward him, unable to stop myself from seeking more of that contact. I felt his body press against mine, his breathing grow faster, that little tremor in his chest when my fingers stayed hooked in his T-shirt.

His mouth left mine and followed its path over my skin, slow and firm, as if he wanted to taste every spot he found. The brush of his lips on my neck ripped a sigh from me that I couldn’t contain; it was a direct heat, descending over my breasts and going through me without asking permission.

He took my hips more forcefully, pressing me fully against him, and my body responded without thinking. His hand slid down my back with a clear intent, warm and powerful, and when he gripped my ass firmly he held me in the exact place he wanted me. Every movement of his trapped me a little more, as if my body recognized his before my mind did.

—You have no idea how much I missed you… —he murmured against my skin.

My hands moved up his chest and I felt the tension, his self-control on the verge of breaking. His lips brushed mine without quite touching, in a cruel and delicious game.

I was breathing his air. He was breathing mine.

And there, in that suspended tension, I knew that all it would take was one more second for neither of us to be able to stop what was coming.

***

He lifted me onto his hips, stroking my thighs as he held me. He set me down on the still-warm hood. He looked at me with a dark, wicked intensity. His impatient hands stripped me of my clothes, leaving my skin exposed to the cold.

Feeling the cold fighting against the fire of his hands was to be consumed by an impossible burn.

He kissed me without hesitation, devouring me with the same need as that first time. I melted for him. Reclined on the hood, naked in the middle of the cold, I felt the contrast between the icy metal and his searing heat. He bent down and began kissing my skin calmly, as if he wanted to memorize every inch. His lips left a warm trail that tore sighs from me. I clung to him.

The moonless night covered us in perfect darkness.

He lifted my legs, opening me for him. The anticipation had me trapped. I wanted to feel him. I arched my back, offering myself without reserve. And the heat of his breath struck me.

He went in directly, hot and wet. His tongue explored me as if he wanted to drink me. Every shudder of mine only encouraged him more. The chill of the metal ceased to exist.

His fingers moved with precision, stealing my breath. I clung to that suspended moment, on the edge of surrender. He took my legs by the calves, tracing slow lines over my skin, sliding me across the metal.

My feet touched the ground and I was standing in front of him, trembling. His hands kept exploring me, awakening everything.

Then, with a sudden motion, he turned me and bent me over the hood.

Sweetness gave way to something rougher, instinctive, wild.

It was the first time he wanted me like that, with the stars as witness. His hand claimed my sex, exploring my wetness, my desire. My moans grew while his fingers played with my swollen clit.

When I heard the buckle drop, I feared his lack of control. I feared repeating history.

—Easy —he whispered over my back.

The sound of the condom freed me from fear.

—Tonight we’re doing this right —he said.

He entered me with vigor, determined. His hands claimed my hips, marking his authority.

—Let go —he whispered.

My body, far from relaxing, tightened more and more; I was on the edge of the impossible. The need to scream built and fidgeted impatiently.

—Scream… no one will hear us.

And I broke. A deep scream torn from my core.

He broke too.

—Shiiiit… —I heard him shout, and I smiled.

***

When the arousal subsided, there were no questions. Only silence, rapid breaths fading into the darkness. I got dressed. So did he. We watched the city in silence while he held me, giving back the warmth the cold night had stolen from me.

Soft kisses, slow caresses. An hour cut off from the world.

At three in the morning he dropped me off at home. A shy goodbye kiss, contradictory. There were people around.

We were going back to reality.

To the sentence of pretending we were only friends.

No one could warn me that that shy kiss would open a crack between us.

We didn’t see it coming. The marks of that farce were beginning to leave scars on the two of us.

Sometimes I think that at that moment we could still have saved ourselves. Other times, that kiss was the beginning of the end.

The truth is, it didn’t matter: the crack kept growing.

And the worst part was that neither of us took a step to stop it.

I don’t know which thread snapped first, his or mine. But something marked the exact point where everything changed again.