water, and she doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“Then you’re not paying attention,” she says when she has his attention again. “That man is stupid in love with you.”
He feels like he’s been slapped because all he fucking does is pay attention to that man, and he likes to think he would have noticed if his feelings were reciprocated. So it’s hard to believe her when Alejandro has kept him more than at arm’s length.
When Alejandro bought him his apartment but never set foot in it, and drops him off at the curb every date night without so much as a goodbye, and never invites him over, and never lets him see his office—he knows that’s not love.
And it’s not ED, because Alejandro’s most important rule had been no touching. He knows plenty of people who have dealt with erectile issues, and they still fall in love. They’re still intimate. They still look their partners in the eye and make them feel important and seen. Alejandro has done none of those things. On some level, Avery knows he cares, but it’s not enough. He just went and fell in love with the bastard in spite of all that.
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” he says after a beat, and she sighs but concedes.
They leave shortly after, and he follows Sharice to the valet while they wait for her car. The mood between them is subdued, and he glances around at all the wreaths and garlands and holiday shit, and he lets himself just be lonely. He’s too far away from any family and he has absolutely no hope that even if Alejandro is home in time, he’s not going to spend any of those days with Avery.
“Do you celebrate Christmas?” she asks.
Avery blinks then realizes she’s caught him staring at a tree-shaped garland strung between two lamp posts. “No. Just Chanukah, but I’m not going home this year. I thought he might need me, but…” he trails off again, feeling pathetic.
Sharice hums. “Are you coming to the holiday party?”
His cheeks burn because he didn’t even know there was one, but that’s probably his fault for not paying attention. He’s been kind of a shitty co-president of their club this year, which is so wrong because it’s the last holiday season they’re going to have together. Most of them will be in different grad schools—in different states, starting new lives and new, important futures. And he doesn’t want to say he’ll keep in touch because it’s mostly a lie, but he should have done better by her. By all of them.
The pain is starting to feel like those checks clearing his account every week aren’t worth it. “I’ll let you know,” he offers, and she seems to decide that’s enough because she doesn’t say anything until they pull up to his building.
He leans in to kiss her cheek, and she holds him by the back of the neck before he can escape. “Remember when I found out about him and I told you that if you ever need anything, I’d be there?”
He rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. “Yeah.”
“I mean it.”
“I know,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
“I don’t give a fuck who he is, or how much money he’s got,” she says, and she lets him go but she doesn’t break their gaze. “If you feel like you can’t get away, I will do whatever it takes to get you away from him.”
And fuck, he’s so touched he wants to cry, but he bites the inside of his cheek and then leans in to kiss her on the temple before pulling away and grabbing his bags to run. He can’t face her because he’s starting to feel the cracks giving way. One more look of pity and it’ll be over for him.
He was sad before—back when he was poor and had no direction. Meeting Alejandro was supposed to change things, and he supposes it did. But not in the ways that made anything better.
7
The Phone Call
Avery’s halfway into a pizza, mouth burning from jalapenos, when his phone buzzes. It’s been quiet most of the day, so he figures it’s probably Sharice texting to remind him to get his head out of his ass—or maybe to offer to head down to the bar and get drunk, which is a hard pass since he’s already in sweats and covered in grease.
But he likes her enough to roll toward the edge of the sofa and snatch his phone off