“Bu—”
Ethan clasps his hand over Rich’s mouth. “Dude, you havegotto shut up. What’s the matter with you? Who do you spend time with when you’re in California?”
Rich’s company is worth billions of dollars. I’m certain he’s not used to this treatment. He lives in California, where he’s surrounded by people whose salaries are paid by him. They have every incentive to put up with his bullshit.
His expression goes from bewildered to indignant as he slaps Ethan’s hand away. “Dude,youguys are who I hang out with. Why do you think I’m back here all the time?” He stands up, chair scraping against the floor. Hiseyes harden as he closes the distance between us. “But I’ve got better places to be if you’d rather hang out with trash.”
Red bleeds into my vision, but I force myself to not react as we face off for what feels like ages.
Rich is my oldest friend. Ethan had a happy family, other friends, was always popular, but Rich always felt like another me. Even as a kid, I recognized his parents were just as shitty as my dad, that when Rich and I were together, it was an escape for us both.
My therapist helped me see that my hurtful behavior was a mask, something that helped me avoid looking in the mirror and seeing how much I was really hurting. It was self-preservation. I always assumed the same was true for Rich, the other me.
But I was wrong about him. I could justify our behavior at eight, twelve, eighteen. But now that we’re both in our thirties? The red fades from my vision, replaced by pity.
This is just who Rich is.
He must register my resignation, because he huffs, “Fuck off.” He balls the paper from the trivia game in his fist and chucks it at me as he walks away, calling out, “If anyone’s up for a game of naked twister, I’m leaving now.”
A trio of girls who look like they probably attend the college just outside town scramble out after him.
I fall into my seat, feeling like I aged decades in the last three minutes.
“When he calms down, we’ll talk to him,” Ethan says.
“When’ll that be?” Rich can hold a grudge.
He shrugs. “A couple months, at least.”
With a weary sigh, I nod. “Sounds about right.”
After several moments, Ethan picks the conversation back up where we left it before we gave Blue Ridge something new to talk about. “Is Tess dating someone?”
Glancing toward the bathrooms, I say, “I don’t really know. We’re friendly at work. Well, she’s friendly with everyone. But it’s superficial, she keeps to herself. I was surprised when Brie said she was meeting her tonight.”
Ethan hesitates before asking, “How are things going with Brie?”
I shove my hand into my hair, and I must still be agitated because of Rich because I blurt, “She’s driving me up the fucking wall. She doesn’t trust me, you should see the look in her eyes when I’m around. It’s like she’s just waiting for me to ruin her life.”
And the worst part is, I know I deserve it. Every mistrusting look, every sneer.
I add, “I know it’s impossible, but I wish we could just start at zero.”
“Have you talked to her? Like,reallytalked to her?” Ethan asks. “I mean, sat down and had a conversation, shown her you’re different?”
Ethan doesn’t know my whole story, doesn’t even know about the years of therapy, but there’s solace in knowing at least he can see I’m not the same as I used to be. It gives me hope that, if she’d just look, Brie might see it too.
But he doesn’t know what all’s involved in having a conversation like that with her. There’s too much history to trudge through, too much baggage, and she’ll probably hate me more afterward. It’s better to spare her.
I shake my head. “Honestly, I didn’t think it’d be like this.” When I saw her that first day, I thought she’d be a sub, and I’d be her boss, and we’d be cordial. Let the past stay in the past, act like strangers who work together. “I didn’t expect to keep bumping into each other.”Or to still have feelings for her.
Ethan grins sardonically. “InBlue Ridge, you didn’t think you’d bump into her?”
“Besides,” I add, ignoring him, “it’d be unprofessional to dig into it all, right? I’m her boss.”
Ethan raises his eyebrows. “Unprofessional, like tugging her chair toward you in a crowded restaurant? Or putting your arm over her shoulders like you’re claiming her? Or nearly getting into an altercat?—”
“I got it,” I interrupt, rubbing the back of my neck and laughing ruefully.
