I arrived at the schnitzel place we used to go back when we were pretending to be friends; or at least, I was. I sat alone at the bar and drank the saddest shot of bourbon. A couple more followed.

 

I noticed she had arrived because every man inside the bar turned their heads towards the entrance. When we saw each other we started laughing; we were dressed almost identically, but this time the coincidence was insane: we both had a version of the Brazil soccer jersey.

 

“Again? This is too witchy,” she said.

 

“If this is not a sign then I don’t know what a sign is,” I said.

 

“A friendship sign?” she said coyly.

​

“Friendships don’t have signs.”

 

“Of course they do,” she said. We hugged and she sat next to me. We ordered the usual. “I was so sad yesterday after your message that I listened to our entire playlist,” she said.

​

“The full eight hours?” I said. 

 

“It was just so unexpected.” 

 

“You didn’t know I liked you?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re so naive.”

 

“I’m naive because I can’t imagine someone wanting to be my friend?”

 

The food was delicious. Eventually, as if the whole conversation had been a long parentheses, I interrupted whatever silly thing we were talking about and said “You know what? Let’s be just friends.” She believed it and I think I even believed it myself.

 

After dinner I drove her home as I always did, she DJ’d as she always did, she complained about me smoking too much of her Juul as she always did, we drove past her home back and forth a few times so we could listen to more music as we always did. It had all gone back to normal. She had won.

​

I parked by her building entrance ready to hug and say goodbye, but before getting out of the car she said “isn’t it weird that in all this time you have never been to my apartment?”

​

I had to stop and think. After the whole “we’re just friends” spiel this didn’t make any sense. As curious as I was, I managed to quiet the part of my brain that demanded an explanation. There would be plenty of time for explanations. “Maybe we can go now,” I said.

​

“I don’t know…it’s so late.”

​

“I mean…you’re the one who suggested it,” I said.

​

“I know, but now I don’t know,” she said. She deliberated, I prayed. “Ok, let’s go,” she said. “But my roommate is sleeping, let’s just go to the pool lounge.” The night was warm and quiet, ideal for a night swim. “But we’re not going in,” she said.

​

We entered the pool area and simultaneously removed our Dr Martens boots to dip our toes in the water. She walked towards the border first and I sat watching her from the chaise lounge.

 

The moon was low, huge, and perfectly round, and it drew the contour of the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen tiptoeing childishly between the border and the first of the pool steps. The dim light from the pool made her eyes sparkle and her lips glow. To me, this was a picture of absolute perfection.

​

I walked towards her. As I was approaching her, I took off my t-shirt, tossed it to the side, and pushed her into the pool with her clothes on. I jumped in right after.

 

We laughed out of the simple joy of floating in the water. The wet hair made her look even more beautiful.

 

We swam around and played kids’ pool games, until I finally swam towards her and hugged her by the waist. She placed her palms on my upper arms. We looked into each other's eyes and smiled. I took her by the back of her legs and invited her to wrap them around me. She hugged me with her legs and rested her elbows on my shoulders, but instead of kissing which should have been the logical follow-up, she brought her mouth next to my ear and said “I’m dying to pee.”

 

“So pee,” I responded. 

 

“What? Like, on you?”

 

“Yes, I’ll count it as my golden shower experience.” 

 

“OK,” she said, and started peeing while still wrapped around me. I grabbed the back of her head and brought her towards me. We kissed while she kept on peeing and continued for a while after. Not your textbook golden shower, but I’m hoping sex scholars will allow me to qualify it as such.

 

That night I went home a happy man.

​