Up.
Loosen up.
Grayson’s eyes went wide, and I stormed past him, back into the house. I threw my phone onto the table and went into my bedroom. In a childishly dramatic fashion, I flung myself onto the bed and screamed into my pillow. Louder and louder until my throat hurt and I was confident I’d gotten most of the feelings out. Then I took some breaths and went back for my phone, dialing Hendrix instead of texting.
He sent me to voicemail.
I called again.
Voicemail.
I texted him.
Me: You remember I live next door to you right?
Hendrix: I remember. In a meeting, not ignoring you.
Me: Call me when you’re out. That’s an order.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Grayson said, handing me a glass of wine.
“It’s not even two in the afternoon.” I drank it anyway. The whole thing in three large swallows. “And if you thought there was an explanation, you could have handled the past ten minutes a lot better, Gray.”
“Hendrix is older, right? That means he’s more responsible…”
“Does it?”
He took the wine glass from me and filled it back up. The bottle was empty, and that was almost as displeasing as the whole afternoon’s turn of events. I’d been so looking forward to getting him off so many times he forgot his own name, but the idea had soured.
“He’s more responsible.” Grayson tried to sound like he was certain, but we could both tell he wasn’t. “He wouldn’t let some random hookup in his house unattended.”
“I know!” I took a huge swallow of wine and set the glass on the table. “You heard what he said. He knows how to make him loosen up. And have a good time. He. Knows. How. To. Make. Him. Loosen. Up.” I clapped my hands with the words, face burning from some feeling I hadn’t taken the time to identify.
Anger?
Jealousy?
Embarrassment?
Resentment?
Misery?
I was feeling all of those things at the same time, not able to differentiate between them or pick the one that felt most manageable so I could at least focus on it.
“They clearly have a history together,” I said, taking a breath.
Oh, shit.
Was this what heartbreak felt like?
“I need to be alone.” I left my phone on the table and grabbed my keys.
“You just drank half a bottle of wine. You shouldn’t drive.”
“Then I’ll walk.”
My wallet was in my pocket. My phone on the table. Keys in hand. I grabbed a hoodie off the back of the couch and zipped it up, leaving Grayson in the house and stepping back onto the porch. It was impossible to not look toward Hendrix’s house, to try and imagine what was happening over there. I knew he was still at work because his car wasn’t in the driveway, so at least he was being sincere about that. But I knew there was another man inside, a man who wasn’t me, and I hated that.
