And he’s right—he never made any inappropriate advances at work, never overstepped, never said anything off-putting. I never felt uncomfortable.
I only felt…
The stirrings of.
Of.
No, not that.
Not so soon.
No.
I’m not that naïve.
And he is not that callous.
None of this was intentional.
Was it bad timing? Yes. Was it in bad taste?
So much yes.
He has his things collected, packing up after lunch. The manager of his department came around to notify him that his office was ready, said if he wanted to call it an early day, he could. His desk and furniture would all be back in place by Monday morning.
Great.
Fantastic.
He can leave, so that’s what he does.
Hovering in the door, it’s clear he hasn’t a clue what his last words are going to be. So he says nothing at all—just looks at me long and hard, the expression on his face wiped clean. I can’t read his mind and I can’t read his face, but I can avert my gaze and read my computer screen.
I stare at it until the last rustle of his pants and shirt and breathing fade away.
18
Phillip
“I hate you both.”
Pretty sure I’m slurring my words, but they’re still making sense, so I hardly care. We’re at The Basement after I called an emergency meeting, sans velvet smoking jackets.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
“You’ve told us that thirteen times already,” Blaine says. “I’m keeping track.”
“Wow. Could you be any more unsupportive?”
My friends glance at each other.
“I saw that.” Fuckers.
“You still haven’t told us what this is about, but I’m willing to bet it has something to do with that girl.” Brooks glances toward Blaine, neither of them sober themselves. “Wush her name? Spender?”
“Spencer,” I correct him.
“That’s a guy’s name,” Brooks argues.
“It’s a girl’s name. How about you shut up, your girlfriend has a last name for a first name.”
Their eyes get wide; of the three of us, I’m the least confrontational. Always the least likely to tell anyone how I feel. This outburst gives them pause, drunk as we are.
“Did you dump her?” Blaine is finally eating some food, the appetizers we ordered when we sat down.
“We weren’t together.”
“Do you wanna be together?” Blaine holds his fingers into the A-OK gesture and uses the index finger of his other hand to poke through the hole he’s making.
Idiot.
“Yes.” I hesitate, unable to prevent the truth from flowing out of my mouth. “I like her.”
“Enough to forfeit?”
Maybe.
No.
“Maybe?” My elbows rest on my knees and I lean forward, burying my face in my hands. “Ugh, I feel sick.”
“If you’re going to spew, do it in the bathroom, dude,” Brooks offers unhelpfully.
I glance over at him. “I’m not going to puke, I just feel sick.”
Why is this room so fucking loud? I can’t hear myself think.
“What am I going to do?” I groan.
“I don’t know, bro—what do you want to do?” Blaine asks, and the weight of a hand is on my back, pressing down to comfort me. “Just tell us what you need.”
Oh, now he’s being sensitive? Where was this caring, helpful fuck a half-hour ago when I started downing shots?
“Right this second, I give zero shits about the bet, or the season tickets or the anything.” My head starts to pound, so I raise it. “I fucked up.”
They patiently wait for the floodgate to open.
Sighing, I take the glass of water that’s magically appeared out of nowhere and chug down a healthy swallow. It’s cold and refreshing and just what I needed.
“The truth is, I don’t know what I want.”
The gravity of my statement hangs above us.
Again, they wait.
“I…think if I don’t fix this thing with Spencer, it’ll be too late, and I…worry that…”
What do I worry, what do I worry?
Focus, Phillip. Focus.
Two fingers press into my temples as I search for the right words. “I worry that…she thinks she’s the butt of some joke. No, that’s not it.” Inhale. Exhale. “I worry if I don’t choose her, I’m going to regret it.”
“How long have you known her?” Brooks asks. “Four days? You’re going to blow a bet for someone you’ve known four days? You cannot be that stupid.”
Blaine smacks him in the arm. “Dude, I’m not just saying this because I’m drunk—I’m saying it because I love you.” His hand moves to rest on my arm. “And I’m not saying it because I want to win the bet, which I do.”
“Would you get to the point?” Brooks grumbles, annoyed.
“That’s all I had to say.”
I look at Brooks. “I don’t think whether I’ve known her four days or four