Kyle, triggered by Richard’s request, and then promptly projected my own issues onto Javi, without even giving myself time to process—without giving Javi time to process. Feeling hateful toward myself, I placed my shoes back near the door and hurried up to my daughter.
Giuliana was angry about a wet diaper. I changed her, trying to take my time and not rush. But anxiety had made my stomach sour and an unpleasant heat build in my chest, and I was eager to call Javi. Unfortunately, my nerves must have been felt by my baby, because it took her a long time to settle down again, finally drifting back to sleep again over an hour later.
When I finally was able to call Javi, it rang a few times and went to voicemail. The same thing happened the next time I called, and the next. Trying not to worry too much, I peeked out the window. All of his lights were still on; he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Which meant he wasn’t answering my call on purpose.
I didn’t want to give him space. He’d told me his needs, and instead of listening, I’d gotten defensive. It was my fault he’d reacted the way he did, and all I wanted was to try and fix it immediately. But I hadn’t listened to him and it had upset him, so what I wanted...I needed to put my wants aside. If he didn’t want to talk yet, I’d give him space.
When he was ready, he’d come back… right?
18
Javi
Work had always been a respite for me, a place where I could be with people I cared about and do something I was good at. Today, though, it felt like a prison. All I wanted was to hide under my covers and pretend the night before hadn’t happened.
I canceled my afternoon appointment, something I’d never done before. Trinity had given me a concerned look but didn’t press the issue, and after freeing up my day, I buried myself in sketches. But they were too dark, the edges rough and angry.
I’d been honest with Gordo, letting the parts of myself that weighed me down daily spill out. It had felt monstrously difficult to admit that I didn’t think much of myself, and why. Truth could sting, it could be vicious, and it had carved me to pieces to put it out in the world, especially to someone I admired and cared for so much, someone who was so smart and sexy and good.
But what had I gotten for my confession?
Gordo’s open-mouthed silence.
A splash of wet ruined the ink on my paper, and I angrily brushed away the tears, hoping no one had seen them. Thankfully, Dane was too busy joshing around with a customer, and Trinity was giving me distance.
Gordo had called me after I’d left, but I’d wanted something more. I’d wanted him to come to me, showing me I was worth fighting for. Because on my own, I struggled too much believing I was worth it, especially when I was already feeling jealous and self-conscious and stupid for reacting so strongly. But he hadn’t come over and, after the night of our fight, he stopped calling, too. Had I fucked things up already?
Just as I was about to sink to lower wallowing depths, I felt a hand clasp on my shoulder. When I looked up, I saw Reagan’s concerned face. He looked like he wanted to ask me how I was, opening his mouth, and then thinking better of it.
Instead, he said, “The apprentice, Bryce, made a video of the fundraiser. He said it's gotten a lot of traction online and is going to show us. Wanna watch?”
Nodding, I brushed my cheeks again to make sure they were clear and took a second to compose myself. When I came out from my station, everyone was huddled around the front counter, staring at the main scheduling computer. Dane threw an arm over my shoulders, but managed, for once, not to crack a joke. He just lent me his strength, and I fucking loved him for it.
“So I took a bunch of shots and edited it with some music, just to showcase the awesome work y’all do here.” Bryce’s cheeks were pink as he said it, but I could tell he was proud of the video.
“Yeah, yeah, you brown-noser, we like you, too. Play the video!” Dane said, his arm giving me one more reassuring squeeze before dropping away.
Bryce hit play. It was a very impressive video—he’d shot