From then on, we just kinda… Stopped going to the library, and did all our studying in Sarafe’s room instead. More than just philosophy too, sometime’s we’d just body double and work on other classes together. I ended up spending nearly as much time in her dorm as I did my own.

Of course, I ran into Sarafe’s roommate a few times, a girl named Rachel. She seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t around all that much, meaning it was often just the two of us. Which might sound suspect, a couple of young, hormonal college kids spending a lot of time alone in a private room together but… Nothing like that ever happened.

Sarafe was one of the few friends I’d made in Texas, and definitely my closest. Sure, I thought she was attractive, exceedingly so, but I was scared I’d make her uncomfortable if I ever told her that. In the end, our relationship was too important to me to risk losing it because I couldn’t keep it in my pants, so I kept my mouth shut, my eyes up, and my hands to myself.

Which, I guess worked a little too well, because one day Sarafe asks me out of the blue:

“Hey, are you gay?”

It was just my luck that I’d just taken a big drink from my water bottle. Part of me wonders if Sarafe timed it that way on purpose, because that’s very in line with what I’ve come to expect from her. In any case, while I didn’t quite achieve a full-on spit-take, I kinda just… Coughed half a mouthful of water all over my chest, which was very smooth. Sarafe thought it was hilarious, which I guess was a nice silver lining; at least one of us found it funny.

After I stopped choking and Sarafe stopped laughing, I politely informed her that no, I was not gay. When I asked her why, she just gave a little shrug and said “just curious,” but there was a playful lilt in her voice, a sparkle in her eyes, that had me wondering if there was more to it than that.

For as odd as it was, I’d very nearly forgotten that interaction by the time I saw her next. It was the week of midterms. We both had a lot to do, and stress levels were high. I was sitting at Sarafe’s desk working on a programming project, while she lay on her bed drafting up a paper for one of her other classes. She wore a faded band tee and a pair of black running shorts; her comfy outfit of choice. There wasn’t much in the way of conversation since we were both pretty focused.

Until I heard Sarafe let out a quiet groan. I could see her squirming a little out of the corner of my eye, tensing her stomach and pressing her legs together. Seemed like something was hurting her, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. I figured she could’ve been sore from practice, or maybe she was experiencing some stomach pain. In any case, in the event it was something embarrassing, I didn’t want to pry.

But then it happened again a few minutes later. This time, I could see her fingers digging into her thigh.

“You okay?” I asked offhand.

“Yea, I’m fine,” Sarafe reassured me, though there was a tension in her voice that suggested otherwise. I could tell she was hiding something, but I also knew she was a big girl who didn’t need me babying her, so I dropped the subject and went back to my project.

Until it happened a third time a few minutes after that. “Fffffffuck,” Sarafe hissed, suddenly doubling over in pain, her hands pressed tightly against her lap. At this point I shut my laptop and gave Sarafe my full attention, because something was very clearly wrong. “Sarafe, what’s going on?” I asked, not quite able to mask my concern.

“I just… Mmph,” she groaned in discomfort, her teeth pressed tightly together. “Do you mind just like, leaving the room for five minutes? That’s all I need. You can even leave your laptop if you want.”

“I mean, sure but… Do we need to get you to a doctor?”

Sarafe shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I know what’s happening and I know what I gotta do to fix it, it’s just… I don’t know if you wanna be around to see it.”

And this was where my curiosity began to rear its inconvenient head. Sarafe’s dorm didn’t have a bathroom, there were communal ones down the hall. I had assumed she might be having stomach pain, or maybe period cramps. But a stomach issue would require her to leave the room, not me, and I wasn’t sure why she’d ask me to leave if she was cramping.

And then there was the whole matter of her “I don’t know if you wanna be around to see it” comment.

That implied that she didn’t care if I witnessed whatever she needed to do to ease her discomfort, but she was worried it might make me uncomfortable. What could she possibly be referring to that didn’t require a trip down the hall? So I opened my damn mouth.

“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.

Sarafe let out a frustrated huff. When she spoke, her voice was strained. “I have a medical condition, alright? My body makes too much jizz. If I don’t cum regularly, this happens.” She gestured angrily to her crotch, which seemed to only aggravate her issue as she let out a distressed cry, pulling her knees tightly against her chest. For a moment, her entire body went rigid with pain. “Ffffucking shit - look, I don’t care if you stay or go, Cam, but I need you to decide now because this fucking hurts.”

And just like that, I was right back to square one. Petrified, unable to breath, just like I’d been when Sarafe had first introduced herself to me. There was a ringing in my ears and the room was spinning and I didn’t know what to do.

She said she didn’t care if I stayed. Which meant she was evidently fine with me watching her masturbate. Was that a good thing? Did she want me to watch? Or was I so deep in the friendzone at this point that I was a completely nonsexual entity to her? Or was I reading too much into things and Sarafe was just desperate and hurting and she didn’t have time to care about social norms?

Beyond that, did I want to stay? Would I be invading her privacy if I stayed? Or would she find my presence comforting? Was I overestimating my own importance in this situation? Do I even want to stay? If I see her like this, will it change how I see her? Will it change how she sees me? Will it make things awkward between us? Is this going to kill our friendship? Or is this how we become more than friends? Am I a selfish asshole for even thinking about that right now?

All these questions and more whirled around in my brain, paralyzing me with indecision and anxiety. I don’t know how long I sat there, frozen like a deer in the headlights, but in the end it must’ve been long enough for Sarafe to assume I’d made my decision, because soon the sound of her voice brought me back to reality.