‘Good… That’s good to hear. So you’re mad because… I’m wasting your time?’
Phoebe gapes, looking so appalled that Charles jerks away from the road where she seems ready to shove him.
‘I’mmad because you’re a little prick! And the fact that Loris isn’t guzzling ice cream because you’re a prick doesn’t make you less of a prick!’
‘True, but—’
‘And I’m not even mad! I’d like to be, I love unleashing my wrath at pricks who hurt my friends. But I can’t be mad, because I get it and— But Loris isn’t hurt! Okay? He’s not, he’s great, he— Ah!’ She groans and knocks her fists together. ‘This is why I was gonna avoid you, I have no filter once I’ve been provoked! But Loris is fine. Get over yourself, you’re not that special. Sure, your timing sucked, shutting him out the same week he had to deal with Enzo the Knobhead, but otherwise he’s living his best life. We went to Ku Bar the other night and he was doing terrific, he… And why am I still talking? Can’t you cut me off when I’m speechifying?’
Charles was about to, afraid to be provided with a very graphic explanation of Loris doing terrific in a gay club. He blurs the one he’s already sketching and rewinds to an early point in Phoebe’s tirade.
‘You get it?’
‘Well, yeah. I’ve been there and I’m not a hypocrite.’
‘You’ve been where?’
‘The bi panic.’
‘It’s not that!’ Charles’ pulse switches up a gear. ‘I’m not— I’m not… there.’
‘Really? He’s not the first guy you’re pining for? That’s a scoop. Before you showed up to the pub all touchy-feely, your vibe was dramatically straight.’
‘Because I am! I’m not pining for any… I’m... I’m not into Loris.’
‘Sure... Why don’t you want to hang out with him anymore if it’s not that you’re scared to get a boner?’
Charles gasps and pulls her away from a group of people. ‘Please keep your voice down.’
‘Iwill, if you answer my question.’
‘I won’t! I’ve explained to Loris why I can’t see him. I won’t tell you anything. I’m— I just wanted to be polite and I’m sorry I provoked you.’
‘If you think I’m gonna share a single word of this conversation with Loris, you’re dead wrong.’
‘I think you’ll share all of it with him.’
‘You’re damn right.’
Charles exhales a nervous laugh. He will pen-click for days over this exchange, so it’s an epic failure.
‘Well, you can just tell him—’
‘Fuck no, Charles! I’m not telling him shit for you. You either grow a spine and face him with your not-into-him excuses, or you let him move on from… whatever you had going on. You know, that’s what sucks the most! You guys had a nice connection, regardless of how straight you’re not for each other. Loris wasn’t seeking your company because you look like a Burberry model, he loved that— Wait! I’m the one saying you look like one, okay? He never said that. He never—’
‘Should I cut you off?’
‘Thanks! Bye!’ She spins around, then again because she’s heading the other way. ‘Let me avoid you next time. Or quit being a panicking prick. Up to you.’
‘Will do,’ Charles whispers, unsure about the option he’s choosing, which doesn’t matter because Phoebe’s headphones are back over her ears.
He crosses the road while the signal is green, to add an extra street between his racing heart and the North Haven, Phoebe and Loris.
Loris, who might not believe either that Charles isn’t into him. After all, he never bought any of the fake-Charles hewas sold. But for once, Charles viscerally wants to prove him right. So he curses himself and sprints towards his house. Towards all the reasons why he can’t do that.
But in the shower that night, Charles doesn’t rid himself of thoughts he shouldn’t be having. He doesn’t slam the thermostatic valve and doesn’t stop his hand. And lying on his bed afterwards, tears in his throat, he breaks into a fit of hysterical laughter.
Exorcising the desire he’s been burning from since the day he acknowledged it has been another epic failure. George gave him a shaky method to figure out what he wants, but he didn’t explain how to get over what’s off limits – because George redraws limits if his dreams stretch beyond them.
