Maybe You're a Raccoon

Author's Note:

Austin is a nice guy. No, really, an actual nice guy, not just one of those horrible nice guys. After a messy conversation about his best friend Shay's most recent breakup, things are awkward between the two friends as a huge thunderstorm hits and the power goes out.

This story is part of the When The Lights Go Out universe. These stories do not need to be read in any particular order; they all revolve around the same event, but are stand alone pieces.

**

You know that one girl?

Everyone knows a girl like her. It seems like she's unfair, like everything about her is just... perfect. All of the words that describe a pretty girl apply to her. She's cute and adorable and beautiful and sexy. Her nose scrunches when she laughs and her eyes go wide when she's shocked or scared. Her smile could end wars. Everyone knows that girl who is just unfairly beautiful.

On top of that, she's the kindest, sweetest, most genuine person you'll ever meet. She's hopeful and optimistic. Everyone wants to be around her because she makes them feel like the most important person in the world, even if thirty people are surrounding her. Even if you're in a line-up of people vying for her attention, you feel like you matter around her. And she's wholesome and perfect and anyone who hurts her is showing what a piece of trash they are because it's like kicking a puppy or murdering a baby unicorn.

You know that girl, right? That perfect girl? That beautiful and kind and amazing girl?

In my world, that girl was Shay Brady. She was the sweetest person anyone had ever met, she was my roommate, and that Thursday night, she was polishing off her third glass of red wine with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What's wrong with me, Austin?" she asked tearfully.

"Nothing's wrong with you," I said. "Landon was just..."

If anyone who hurt Shay was a piece of trash, Landon Boyko was King of Trash Mountain. Landon Boyko was the entire fucking overflowing landfill and all of the garbage trucks full of garbage that was spilling out because the landfill was overflowing.

Landon Boyko was a motherfucking stinking, flaming, burning trash pile, and I didn't just say that because I was in love with Shay or something. He was a pile of trash because he was dating Shay and fucking every woman he could get his dick into on the side.

"...he was trash," I finished. "Smelly, rotting garbage."

Shay giggled thickly, sniffing as she wiped her face. "I really thought he was different."

I bit back my instinctive response, but she was too observant.

"What?" she asked, reaching for the bottle of wine.

"Nothing," I said.

"Please, Austin? You want to say something. I can tell."

I looked across the table at Shay, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks shiny with tears. Crumpled Kleenex dotted the table around her as she studied me back. It wasn't in my nature to hide things from Shay—she was my best friend, after all—but what I wanted to say would be more hurtful than helpful.

She found out about Landon's extracurricular activities while she was working her shift at the animal shelter. Shay loved animals and had volunteered there as a teenager, then went to one of the nearby community colleges to get her vet tech diploma. She came back to Minwack Falls just before Alice McGrady retired, and Mrs. McGrady had demanded that they hire Shay, going so far as to say she'd never retire if they didn't bring Shay on as her replacement.

I heard through the grapevine that they were planning on hiring Shay anyway, but Mrs. McGrady liked to feel important and involved, so no one told her it wasn't her doing that got Shay the job.

Anyway, Shay had been at work when a girl we'd gone to school with, Orianne Forrest, burst into the shelter, bawling her eyes out. Shay, being Shay, immediately thought she'd lost her pet or maybe had a sick animal or something and ran to her.

"No!" sobbed Orianne as Shay wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm here to apologize."

"Apologize for what?" Shay asked, handing Orianne a Kleenex.

"I didn't know he was... I'm so sorry," she sniffled. "I swear, Shay, I had no idea he was your boyfriend. I feel awful."

Shay, still being Shay, comforted Orianne as she told her all about how she'd ended up sleeping with Landon, not realizing he and Shay had been dating for six months, and how they'd been hooking up for at least three months at that point. Shay held her hand as Orianne sobbed that she'd thought Landon was cheating on her, and he was: not only with Shay, but with Kayla Voychka, the nineteen-year-old redhead who lived in the townhouses on Park Road, and some girl named Patricia who lived in the next town over.

"And those are just the ones I could find," Orianne blubbered as Shay held her hand. "You have to believe me. I feel so bad, Shay, I can't believe I did this and to you, of all people!"

Orianne seemed shocked that any guy would treat Shay like that, and Shay seemed pretty surprised by the revelation that her trashbag boyfriend was acting like trash. It wasn't surprising, though. Not if you knew Shay.

I'd known her since we were kids who lived next-door to each other. In a perfect world, we would have been best friends who were inseparable since birth or something, but that wasn't the case.

Shay was a year younger than me, and I only lived next-door to her part of the time, since I spent the weekends with my dad. So, growing up, it wasn't like we ever played together or anything. It wasn't until we were in high school that we even spoke, and that was only because my mom was throwing all my stuff onto the lawn and screaming at me. I don't remember what that particular fight was about, but it was the first time she'd done it so publicly.

Clothes and books and other stupid things were flying out the door faster than I could collect them as my mom yelled. I remember Mrs. Roth, the Homeowners Association lady, watching from down the street, and I remember seeing Mrs. McGrady walk by and thinking that everyone in town would know I'd been kicked out by the end of the day. I remember the final slam of the door and the sudden silence in the middle of the afternoon as I stared at the house I'd grown up in, my face red as I held an armful of clothes in the front yard.

That's when Shay came over.

"Are you okay?" she'd asked.

"Uh..." I said.

"That was a dumb question," she said, biting her lip. "Austin, right?"

I nodded.

"Let's pick all this up and you can come over to my house while we figure things out."

Just like that, it was "we." I wasn't figuring things out on my own; Shay was there to help me. Her parents seemed surprised when they came home from work to discover the two of us sitting in their kitchen, folding my clothes and trying to figure out if I could sneak back in the house to get the things my mom hadn't thrown out on the lawn, but they were as kind to me as Shay was. When my dad refused to let me stay with him, Mrs. Brady insisted I stay in their guest room, at least until I figured things out.

My mom relented and took me back in a few days later, but I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen. I ended up with a roommate, but Shay came to visit almost every day until she graduated high school. It was devastating when she left town to get her vet tech diploma, but it ended up working out: my old roommate moved out two months before she came back, and when I asked if she wanted to be my new roommate, she jumped at the chance.

All that was to say that Shay was a fixer. She saw the best in everyone and even when people weren't the best, she wanted to make them their best. She was inherently attracted to people who needed someone to believe in them, the problem being that a lot of the time, those people didn't want to be believed in.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Austin," Shay begged, bringing me out of my memory.

"It's not the right time," I replied.

She stared at me for a moment. "Don't tell me you're in love with me."

"No!" I exclaimed, certain my face had immediately turned maroon. Coughing, I lowered my voice. "I mean... no. Not that you aren't, you know..."

"Ouch," she said.

I cringed. "This came out wrong, can I try again?"

"I was just joking, you know," she said.

I laughed uncomfortably, shaking my head. "I was just thinking that I didn't think Landon was different than the others."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well... think about your other exes. What about Dan?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, he was like... I mean, I was kind of immature when I started dating him. He just seemed so mature and mysterious."

"He wore a leather jacket when it was thirty Celsius and bummed money off you all the time to fill up that shitty motorcycle he had."

"Well, yeah. He didn't have a job," she admitted.

"And then there was Alex."

She bit her lip. "I broke up with him, though."

"After you caught him stealing from you."

She didn't say anything.

"Jonathan?" I said.

"He got help for his anger issues after we broke up," she said in a tiny voice.

"And Peter?"

"Well..."

"He was addicted to cocaine, Shay."

She sighed. "And then Landon. I just seem to attract the worst people, don't I?"

I twisted my mouth. "I mean, to an extent, I guess."

"I'm starting to think that men are just garbage," she said bluntly.

"Well, we do suck."

"Not you!" she said quickly, her eyebrows creasing with worry. "That was mean. I was just... I'm exaggerating. I'm just bitter right now."

"Yeah, but..." I hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Okay. If men are garbage, maybe you're like a raccoon."

Shay raised her eyebrows. "What?"

My face wasn't just red anymore. It felt like my skin was crawling, like I was allergic to the anxiety the conversation was giving me.

"Like, maybe... maybe it's not that you're attracting a certain type, it's that you're kind of attracted to a certain type."

"I like garbage, you mean," she said flatly.

"That's... that came out wrong, too."

She barely heard me. "You think I'm a tiny little trash panda digging through the dumpster trying to find the juiciest piece of rotten meat, and then I'm surprised when it makes me sick."

"Uh... well, sort of? Not..." I sighed, looking at her. "This is why I didn't want to say this right now."

"No, you... I asked you to," she said. "I just didn't realize that's what you thought of me."

"I don't think of you like that!" I protested. "I just meant—"

"You just called me a raccoon," she said sadly.

"Raccoons are cute, though," I said desperately. "Right?"

I wasn't just digging myself into a hole, I was creating a man-made stormwater pond using nothing but a shitty raccoon analogy and inappropriate timing. Shay's lips flicked downwards as she nodded.

"Yeah, I guess," she said.

"Shay, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine," she said, draining the rest of her glass. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"It's eight-thirty."

"Well, I also have an early shift tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down.

She stood up and smiled half-heartedly. "I don't know if all men are garbage, but even if they are, that'll never apply to you. You're the nicest guy, Austin. Really. I'll feel better tomorrow."

She hugged my shoulders as she walked by, a quick squeeze that told me she wasn't mad, but I hadn't done anything to make her feel better. She was far too polite to say it, though, and guilt scraped down my bones as I watched her go into her bedroom. I sighed, then stood up and cleared the wine bottle and glasses away, finished the half-glass I'd poured for myself so she didn't feel like she was drinking alone, and went into my room.

I hated being called a nice guy.

There was weight to being called a nice guy. "Nice guys" weren't really nice guys, they were guys who thought they were nice and got all mopey when the women they liked didn't like them back. "Women only like bad boys," they'd say. "Women don't like nice guys. Nice guys finish last. You go out of your way to respect women and they won't even date you."

Like respecting women was some step you were supposed to take to get laid rather than just being the right thing to do.

"Nice guys" befriended women with the expectation that they'd eventually get moved out of the so-called friend-zone. "Nice guys" didn't tell these women they liked about their feelings, then got angry and jealous and self-deprecating when said women dated other men.

You know, like exactly what I was doing to Shay.

I flopped down on my bed and cringed, slamming my eyes shut. I'd never meant to develop feelings for her. I really hadn't. She was my best friend and had been for years, and even when she'd first moved in, I'd told myself those feelings I had were just friendly ones. I could think she was pretty, as a friend. I could want her to date guys who were better for her. Friends wanted the best for their friends. I could feel protective and angry when people hurt her because I cared about her, and there was nothing wrong with caring about a friend.

There was something wrong with nearly throwing up when she brought her boyfriends over to stay the night, though, and definitely something wrong with deciding that those were the nights I was going to party and crash at another friend's place.

I'd never made a move on her, and I didn't ever intend to. Even as I heard her crying through the wall and my body ached to go to her, to comfort her and hold her and press my face into her hair, I told myself it was just a small crush. It was natural, right? A guy and a girl living together, being around each other all the time... it was normal to feel like I might have feelings. Didn't mean they were real feelings.

There was no denying that she was incredibly attractive. I mean, she was an amazing person, and that's what mattered most. Physically, though, everyone could see that she had a smile that made me feel like I was melting, and that her eyes were expressive and bright, and that her body was... perfect. Just so, so perfect.

And when you live with someone, you notice those things. People get comfortable in their homes, and there was nothing wrong with that, but sometimes it meant Shay would walk around in a T-shirt and short-shorts as pyjamas. And sometimes she wouldn't wear a bra, and I didn't mean to notice. It wasn't like I was trying to look, it just... she was just there, and it was hard not to notice when she'd curl up beside me on the couch and snuggle against my arm. It wasn't my fault that her nipples would get hard and that the fabric of her shirt was thin enough to let me feel them as she cuddled against me. And I couldn't help that I liked that feeling, or that my body reacted to it. That was just biology. That was... it just happened.

I could help what I did about it after we went to our separate rooms, though, and that's where things got complicated, because I couldn't deny how hot she was, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking about her when I stroked my cock.

The guilt surged through me again, my face turning red as I thought about the last time she'd sat with me on the couch. I was being selfish. The right thing to do would've been to tell Shay I was starting to have feelings for her so she could decide what she wanted to do, since she might act differently around me if she knew I thought of her like that. It just felt wrong, though. I couldn't tell her how I felt when she had a boyfriend, and every time she broke up with a boyfriend, it felt like it was too soon to put that kind of pressure on her.

Worst of all, if I admitted how I felt, I might lose my best friend. And I loved her too much as a friend to risk that.

Instead, I ignored the fact that I wanted to be with her, I tried to ignore the sound of her crying in her room, and I fell asleep hoping against hope that things would go back to normal the next day.

My hopes were dashed just after six-thirty the next morning. I woke up in a sweat, the air in my room stagnant and stale. Even though it was early, I could already tell it was going to be a hot day. I could hear Shay getting ready in the bathroom, the sound of the tap almost frantic. The fact that I could hear anything at all meant only one thing: she was late for work.

Usually when she was late for work, I offered her a ride. That day, my shift was starting shortly after hers and I'd risk being late myself. I could get her there, but only if I got ready first. I pulled myself out of bed, yawning as I crossed to my door and opened it, clad in only my boxers but assuming she'd still be in the bathroom.

"Shay, d'you need a ride?" I called in the direction of the closed door.

"Oh my God, Austin, that would be amazing!" she cried.

Before she even finished speaking, she flung the door open unexpectedly. I jumped back into my room, stumbling.

"Oh!" she said, pausing after bursting out of the bathroom. Her eyes widened as she looked at me, her mouth dropping open before she started laughing.

"Uh, give me a sec!" I blurted, slamming my door.

"Sorry," came the quiet response, punctuated by a nervous giggle.

Just what every guy likes to hear when the woman he likes sees him half-naked. I felt my face burning as I dug through my pile of clothes for a clean work shirt and black pants.

The redness didn't fade before I left my bedroom, nor could I make eye contact as Shay filled a travel mug with coffee and handed it to me. I muttered my thanks and grabbed my lunch from the fridge.

"Austin, I—"

"Alrighty, I think we're set!" I said loudly. "Let's hit the road."

"Can I apologize?" she asked quietly.

"Can we just not talk about it?" I replied.

"Okay," she said sadly.

I felt guilty for making her sad, but couldn't bring myself to say anything else. We didn't talk at all as we got into my shitty old car and I drove her to her job at the animal shelter.

"I might have to work a little late so I'll be okay to walk home tonight," she said as she got out of the car. "See you later, Austin."

"Bye," I said, but she'd already shut the door. I sighed before turning around and speeding across town to get to my glamorous job at the gas station.

The day passed by slowly. It was as hot as I'd imagined it would be, and that kind of heat only brings out the worst in people. Three different people bitched about the price of gas, like I had anything to do with it, and one accused me of driving up the price because we were the only gas station in town.

I mean, that was true, but it wasn't my gas station.

I spent my half-hour lunch at The Hokey Pokey Ice Cream Parlour next door. Usually, I went for a walk around the block, but it was so hot that the back of my shirt was soaked just walking to the ice cream shop. It was relatively busy given it was mid-day on a Friday, but I managed to get a table and play games on my phone until I had to go back to work.

The slowness of the day only made the time with my thoughts more painful.

I knew she hadn't meant to laugh at me, and I knew it had nothing to do with... well. Whatever. Shay wasn't mean-spirited and her laugh had probably been due to nerves or surprise. I mean, the situation was a little funny. And it only hurt because I secretly liked Shay, and it wasn't like she had any idea that I did.

On top of that, she was hardly ever late for work, and when she was, it was because she overslept. She likely overslept because she'd been crying all night, and she was crying all night because I'd called her a raccoon. Well, that probably wasn't the only reason. I mean, she had just broken up with her boyfriend. Me not talking to her as we drove to work also probably didn't help.

I decided after my shift ended that I'd pick up some ice cream as an apology. Her favourite flavour at The Hokey Pokey was Mint Moose Tracks, a disgusting combination of mint ice cream with peanut butter cups and a fudge swirl. She had to have some flaws, after all, and her taste in ice cream was one of them. Still, when work was done, I walked next door and got in line, intending to get a pint of that abomination for her and a pint of Espresso Flake for myself.