voice all clipped and pissed the fuck off, which made my stomach twist into a knot all over again. “I’ll be having a group of friends over for dinner,” Paolo said. “Wine, a gift exchange, music.” He gave me a tight, totally fake smile. “The apartment is small, so you can be elsewhere that evening, yes?”
“Sure,” I said, because that sounded like a load of fucking fun. Drumming up a place to crash on Christmas fucking Eve? No one I knew was going to be free that night, and any other year, okay, probably no big since I’d be able to just hit up Grindr for a host, but I… fuck. I didn’t want to spend that night, or any other one, on someone else’s dick. Someone who wasn’t Andy, I mean. And there was no way someone like him didn't already have plans, so even if we were still hooking up then, that wasn’t going to be an option, either.
“You are sure you will not be here?” Paolo asked, since he was a dick.
Actually, you know what? This whole day was a bag of dicks.
“I’m sure,” I said anyway, because really, what else was there to say? And I'd figure something out, because I always did, but just… fuck. I didn’t know what exactly that something was going to be, and right now, I just wanted to get gone already.
“Obrigado,” Paolo said with that fake smile again.
“Yep,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the door. “That all? Got someone waiting on me.”
He hesitated. “We need to talk about the apartment lease soon.”
The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. No fucking thank you. I knew it was up at the end of the month, so I figured I also knew what he was going to say—time for me to get the fuck out and find someone else willing to put up with me—but did I really have to hear it right now?
Apparently not, since Paolo just gave me a sharp nod when I jangled my keys and repeated, “Soon.”
I finally made my escape and made it almost all the way to the gym when I noticed my gas light was on. Fucking perfect. And when I pulled into a station and got out of the car?
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I groaned, stepping straight into a blast of arctic air. “I forgot my fucking coat.”
Well, Andy’s coat, since I still hadn’t run mine through the wash and had figured I’d finally return that one he’d loaned me by wearing it tonight, like he’d said. But now…
I clenched my jaw, feeling a muscle start to tic in it. I really didn’t want to go back to the apartment again. Like, really did not. Paolo wouldn’t push the time-for-you-to-move-out discussion on me since he’d already agreed to put it off—at least, he probably wouldn’t—but somehow, I knew he’d still find something else to get on my case about.
I jammed my debit card into the pump and turned to unscrew my gas cap, trying to figure out the lesser of two evils... having my head explode because Paolo could never pass up a chance to point out something new I'd fucked up, or showing up at Andy’s coatless again and proving to him that I couldn't follow basic fucking directions?
I turned back around when the pump beeped at me, punched in my PIN, and then… what?
It made a rude sound and spit my card out.
Not ideal.
I tried the whole thing again.
Same shit.
“What… the actual… fuck,” I muttered, doing it yet-a-fucking-gain, but slower. Shivering my fucking ass off as I squinted at the screen between each step of what should have been a simple fucking transaction that I’d done a million times, forcing my brain to work through the twisting letters and figure out whatever the fuck it was telling me.
Which turned out to be that there were insufficient funds.
I let my head thunk down against the pump. That was some full-on bullshit. Unless I’d messed up a transfer. Or forgotten to do one. And shit, had I? I couldn’t quite remember because I was usually pretty on top of shit like that, but I’d been a little distracted lately and the utter shititude of the day so far was making it hard to concentrate, and I kind of wanted to hit something.
Or scream.
Or just call An—
“Get a fucking grip,” I hissed under my breath, shutting that last option down before my brain could even go there. If anything, I could call Nic,