I was sitting in bed waiting for him to come in so I could tell him the news I knew would end our friendship. I didn’t want to do it, but it was better to get it over with. We couldn’t live with this laying over our heads like one of those cartoon dark clouds personally raining on us. I would have to tell him my dark little secret, but first he had to enter my room in the boy’s dorm of the boarding school we attend.

I had sent him an email saying that I had something to tell him, and asking him to come by my room at his earliest convenience to talk. We had to be in the dorm at ten, as all freshmen did, so I knew it wouldn’t be long. I pulled my white bearskin blanket up to my chin and my mind ran furiously trying to think of the best way to handle the situation.

So I had kissed him, big deal, it’s not like I hadn’t kissed anyone before. Did it really matter that he wasn’t awake at the time? I knew that it wasn’t really me who had done it. I was on some sleeping medication for insomnia at the time, and I had no control over myself. Surely he would understand. I clung to all these reasons as if they were my life preserver, and without them I would drown in a sea of self-pity and loathing for ruing the on true friendship I had ever had.

It had been two days since it had occurred, and every time I had seen him, which had been often, I would blush and make some sort of excuse to leave. Just earlier today he had asked me if I wanted to play foosball as we often did. I dare say it was one of the foundations of our friendship, but I had told him that I had a paper to write for my English class, not realizing that he was in the same English class and so this wasn’t feasible. When he questioned me, I had looked back at him unphased and said it was extra credit. I didn’t like lying to him, but I couldn’t even be in the same room with him given the circumstances. Finally, I came to the conclusion that I needed to tell him if I had any hopes of gaining a normal relationship with him again.

I checked the clock. It read 10:06 in small blue numbers. I sighed to myself and then closed my eyes, deciding to nap until he came in. Four minutes later I heard the swish of my door opening, him neglecting to knock as usual.

“Hey, you wanted to see me,” he asked.

“Yeah, come on in. Sit down,” I said, gesturing towards a blue rolling chair seated near the bed. He was wearing blue pajama pants and a flannel button up shirt that made him look like a lumberjack. I loved when he wore green. It complimented his skin tone and made him all the more desirable to me. He took a seat and then looked at me expectantly.

“So?” He asked.
“Uhm, how was your day?” I asked, trying to avoid the actual issue.
“It was pretty good, kind of long,” he said with a yawn.

“Oh, ok, then I’ll try and keep this short,” I said.
“Sounds good,” he replied.
“So…. Something happened the other night,” I said, a terrible feeling of guilt started to well up in my stomach, like an angry dragon trying to escape captivity.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Yeah, but here’s the thing, I can’t tell you what it is,” I said.
“So you called me in here to tell me that there’s a problem between us, but you can’t tell me what it is?” He asked, slightly amused.
“Basically,” I replied.
“Have I ever told you that you make no sense?” He asked kiddingly. He noticed that my face didn’t change. I was still stone faced; tears started welling up in my eyes.
“Hey, ok, this must be serious,” he said, his facial expression changed from joking to serious. His eyebrows furled and a small wrinkle creased across his forehead.

“Ok, well I need to tell you, but I can’t say it out loud, so I need you to guess it,” I said.
“Are you kidding me?” He asked.

I shook my head no. For a fraction of a second I didn’t think he was going to do it. I thought he was going to walk out, and leave me there.  If he was thinking about doing that, he must have thought better about it, because he went on to say “Ok, so this happened the other night?”

“Yes,” I said.
“The night the five of us slept together in the lounge?” He asked.
“Yep,” I replied.
“Does it involve other people, or just the two of us?” He asked.
“Just us,” I said.
“Oh, ok,” he said, taking a breath.
“How bad is it?” He continued.
“Pretty bad,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Ok, did you go on my computer?” He asked.
“Worse,” I said.
“Did you talk about me behind my back?” He asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Did you pull a prank on my while I was sleeping?” He asked
I pulled the covers up tighter towards my face. He spun around in the chair a little bit, noticing how uncomfortable I had just become. A look of slight fear crept over him.
“I wouldn’t call it a prank,” I replied.

“But something did happen while we were sleeping?” He asked.
“Uhm, well, while one of us was sleeping,” I replied.

I was staring at him through red-rimmed eyes. My vision was clouded my oncoming tears as I waited for him to figure out what I had done. I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face. The one I was expecting was of disgust and anger, and maybe even ever so slight pity.

“What, did you put shaving cream in my hand and then tickle my nose with a feather?” He asked, trying again to break the tension and failing miserably.

“Nope,” I replied.
He stopped and just thought for a second. This was one of those many times I wished I had the power to read minds. It would be so helpful to know all the wild thoughts that were going through his mind, all the gruesome deeds he thought me capable of. I watched as the wrinkle on his forehead thickened as he continued to ponder.
“Is this something….romantic?” he asked carefully, treading on thin ground as if worried he would fall through ice.

A tear actually ran down my face as I nodded in affirmation. I saw a hint of the look I was expecting already pursed across his face. He continued his train of thought choosing his word carefully.
“Better or worse then you holding my hand while I was sleeping?” He asked.
“Worse,” I responded, not looking at him.
“Better or worse then you trying to cuddle with me?” He asked.
I had to think about this one for a moment. I finally came to a conclusion and then still without looking at him answered “worse.”
His look grew more and more worried and he took another thirty-seconds before saying “Better or worse then you kissing me in my sleep?”
I closed my eyes and then said, “I want to say better.”
He looked a little relieved before starting his next sentence.
“Better or worse the….” He said before I cut him off.
“That last thing sounded just about right,” I said, my heart sinking instantly.
“What?” He asked.
“That last thing, it was that last thing,” I replied.
“You kissed me while I was asleep?” He asked.

“Maybe,” I replied.
He gave me the look I was expecting, but with and added element. More then anything, he looked confused.
“Why?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” I said automatically.

He stared at me. His eyes bored into mine and it felt like a blow to the gut. Like his eyes were lazars, blinding me. He was quiet. Every now and then he would open his mouth to start saying something and then would close it again. Finally he managed to get the words out “well, we should talk about this.”

“No, I can’t,” I said started to get out of bed.

“Well we have to,” he said, also starting to get up.

I walked over to the doorway and stood there for a second. I looked into his nave blue eyes and wanted to talk to him. I wanted to work it out with him. I wanted for everything to go back to the way it was, but I knew it wasn’t possible. What I could do was run away from it.

“I’m sorry, I care about you too much, I can’t do this right now.” I said, a tear running down my cheek as I sprinted down the stairs of the dorm ignoring his attempts to call me back.

I have often wondered if things would have ended differently if I had stayed. Would he have told me that it was ok, taken my explanation and forgotten my offence, or would he have hit me for touching him without his consent. Yes, I have often thought about what may have happened if I hadn’t have run away from that situation three years ago, but what I saw in his eyes that day told me that while trying to come clean to him, I had unleashed a deadly storm that would take years to recover from. A storm that would leave some ruined, and some left standing, untouched.