This story is by C. J. Adcock and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Courtney stood vigilant at the screen door, her arms clutched around her middle. The snow promised earlier that morning had melted somewhere between the air and the ground, leaving a starless sky and temperatures barely above freezing. Headlights penetrated the darkness. The rusty truck rumbled down the hill and finally into her driveway.
Eric exited the vehicle, grinning. She shivered, but smiled politely, holding the door open as she ascended the stairs.
His body angled toward hers. Her skin bristled, an immersive reminder of being wedged between the hood of her car and his masculine frame. Their first and only kiss.
The girl who didn’t believe in love had grown into a lonely woman following her broken engagement. Online, she found a kindred spirit: a fellow discard seeking distraction- not love. They’d quickly determined there was no romantic potential or interest between them, given they were still grieving their respective heartbreaks. They flirted with no intention of follow through and spoke openly about their wounds. Which was why she’d agreed when he asked to meet.
That afternoon, she pulled off on an unfamiliar exit which led to the local technological college campus where he attended. They stood outside in the parking lot for the better part of an hour, conversation flowing effortlessly. When it was time for them part ways, he stretched his arms open wide, silently requesting a hug. Reluctantly, she returned the gesture.
It wasn’t the perfunctory farewell she’d expected from their first meeting. He pulled her close and tight, lifting her feet off the ground. Something hard pressed against the back of her legs, the car hood. His lips crushed down over hers, working vigorously, demanding a response. She relented, her instincts sparking on command. Only then did he release her.
The kiss was so sudden, so unexpected, she could scarcely believe it happened. He walked over to the side of her car and opened the door in a gentlemanly fashion. She descended into the seat, wordless. With trembling hands, she inserted the key, turned the ignition, and shifted gears. He closed the door and she pulled out. When she dared to glance back in the rearview mirror, he was gone.
Courtney shook her head, trying to erase the memory, as she closed the apartment door. She’d barely made it down the hill when his apology text arrived. He explained how he’d gotten swept up in a wave of physical attraction and longing for intimacy, but what he truly needed was a friend.
She was never one to turn down a person in need. Especially, when she found herself equally in need. The incident was forgiven and forgotten…until now.
Her eyes traveled down to the bag he held in his right hand.
This was the closest they had been physically since that encounter. That realization came after the invitation had been extended and accepted. She’d already changed into her pajamas when his SOS came in. He’d been kicked out without any warning or a place to go. She had a two-bedroom apartment she used only for sleeping, and a futon in the living room that doubled as a couch. It wasn’t a long-term solution. But it was the kind of offer a friend would make.
“The bathroom’s down the hall. First door on the left.” She raked her hair to one side as she spoke. “The water heater isn’t working, so you can’t shower. But you should be able to change in there.”
If he minded the inconvenience, he didn’t show it. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud, and his arms outstretched wide.
Her stomach knotted. She leaned in.
“Thank you so much for doing this!”
He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame and squeezed tight. Too tight.
She stiffened, then melted. She missed this! Not him, specifically. But she missed the touch of a man whom she loved and who she believed loved her back. Eric couldn’t offer her that. Nor did she want it from him. But perhaps someday, someone could.
He grabbed the strap of his bag and headed toward the hall.
“I won’t be long.” He called out before disappearing behind the bathroom door.
Once alone, she took a few deep breaths and surveyed the surrounding area. The futon was already pulled out into mattress position. A pillow was placed on the top middle of the bed. A blanket was sprawled across it. The kitchen was located on the other side of the living room. There was hardly anything in the cabinets or fridge, but she’d promised a bed, not a bed and breakfast.
He emerged wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, his top half completely exposed. The fruits of his labor at the gym were on full display. Impossible not to notice. Especially for a woman who’d never seen defined muscles up close.
Wasn’t he cold? The thought of shedding her long-sleeved shirt for something more revealing left her chilled. The last thing she wanted was to mislead him. Was he trying to send a message by coming into her apartment half-naked? No. Men often slept shirtless. Her previous experience had taught her that.
Eric sauntered out from the hall, spine straight, lips curled. Which only grew when he caught her staring.
There was a fine line between confidence and cockiness. This man tended to flirt with it. When he wasn’t romancing his vanity, he was dancing with suicidal ideation. Over the last six months, she’d watched him weave between the heights of elation and rocky peaks of self-destruction. She’d spent many a night persuading him off that precipice. He could be confusing. Exhausting. A walking contradiction. But she refused to be like all the others he described. She would prove there were still good people in the world willing to take on the burdens of others with a smile.
“That should be everything.” She was hugging herself again, rubbing her arm up and down one side. “Night.”
Courtney turned back toward her bedroom at the end of the hallway.
“Stay.”
Her feet wanted to move forward. His voice held her captive.
She sighed inwardly and rotated. A mind bent on self-harm would surely find a means given the opportunity.
He gestured toward the bed. “Ladies first.”
Her hands felt unsteady as she crawled to the far-left side of the bed. He sank beside her. There were no springs to whine with movement as they reclined. She usually slept on her side, but she wasn’t comfortable turning her back to him. Nor was she at ease staring into his face all night. The back was her most neutral position.
He reached across her to flip the light off. A faint glow shone through the window from the streetlight outside. Her fingers laced across her abdomen. Her thumbs circled one another involuntarily. She shifted her arm under her head until her bicep stung. She rustled again.
“Here,” He edged closer, offering her a corner of the pillow she’d laid out for him. “We can share.”
She tensed but accepted.
They lay side by side in the dark.
“This might sound strange, but” Eric paused, as if already reconsidering what he was about to say. “I think it might help if I could just hold someone.”
To allow him this request was a blatant blurring of the line between friends and something else. But she’d already crossed that line by agreeing to share a bed with him. Being on her own for nearly a year had left her touch deprived. If it got him through this crisis, why not?
He rolled onto his side and snaked his arm around her waist. She twisted, pressing her back against his chest. Her arm draped over his. The sensation was deceptively similar; a cheap imitation of the affection she craved, but close enough to dull her defenses.
A tug on the string of her pajama pants broke the illusion.
Courtney’s eyes flew open. Her body wrenched free of his grasp.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
She didn’t have to see his face or read his mind to anticipate his response. She’d heard it before.
“I, I’m so sorry.” He sputtered. “I don’t know what came over me. I just-”
She was only half listening now.
“…and after everything you’ve done for me.” He continued.
Her indignation spiraled into shame.
He wasn’t the first person to reach for a warm body to battle the pain of isolation.
“It’s okay. I get it.”
They settled back into position. Further left than before. The next time he reached for those strings, there was no pulling away. She could fight. She would lose. She could flee, were she not pinned between his hands and the wall. In that moment, some deep secret part of her finally understood. His “mistakes” were premeditated, and her “no” meant nothing to him. Those were truths Courtney couldn’t face.
She buried the truth with the greatest lie of them all: what happened that night was consensual.
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