I regret the words, but Henry doesn’t interpret the words the way I mean them.
“A hookup. For us to suck each other off now and then?”
I flinch. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
He stops to look out the window. From there I stand, I can see a slice of the fence, decorated with pretty lights. Shadows flicker across his profile. The bass of the music pounds between us, filling the silence.
“If you’re gay, why do you let everyone think you and Eve are together?” he asks.
“I don’t. I never confirmed it.”
“But you never denied it, not until this week. The way you acted … you let me believe it.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I repeat.
“I believe you. I just feel … confused.” He shakes his head like he can’t make sense of it. “You know, ever since you two started hanging out, I … it bothered mea lot, Noah. It was so pathetic, how much I cared.”
“Henry …”
“I’m glad you’re not dating. I should have said that before, but … ugh, now I feel like a jealous psycho.” He forces a laugh.
I have to tell him the truth. “That was the point,” I say.
He freezes, back stick-straight. “What?”
“I wanted to make you jealous. I … yeah.” My shoulders slump.
“Noah —what?” He steps away from the window and approaches me, hands spread out in front of him in outrage.
“Who sounds like the psycho now?” My smile is pained.
“What do you mean, you wanted to …”
I take a moment to gather my courage before looking him in the eye. “I let you and everyone else think I was dating Eve. I wanted to make you jealous.”
He stares at me for a moment, mouth gaping. “What the actual fuck? Do you know how shit you made me feel?”
I step out to touch him. “I’m — I’m so sorry,” I stutter. “I’m such an idiot.”
I am. Only now do I consider how Henry must have felt the past couple of weeks. Jealousy isn’t pleasant. It’s hot and angry, but also chillingly depressing. You feel that you’ve been replaced.
If I were in his shoes, my jealousy would have eaten me up from the inside. Of course, it hurt him. I’m the worst friend. I did this for my own selfish reasons.
“Why?” He pulls away from my touch.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” The night splintering into a million shards and I don’t know how to stop it or how to make it better. “I can’t explain.”
“Try to.”
If I tell the truth, that will make things worse. “I guess I wanted attention.”
“Attention? I thought you were happy with our arrangement,” he says.
“I am. Let’s forget everything.”
His expression is indecipherable. I slump to the floor, not letting myself look at him, see the hints of anger and sadness and confusion glimmer in his eyes.
Minutes pass. Henry shifts behind me.
