It’s so dumb that I’m worried about what he thinks about this whole situation when we’re not even really friends.
We’re people who know a little bit about each other who once played a game of darts and then today shared a kiss during a very stressful time, and that’s it. That’s the end.
“Okay?” I manage to say through my coughs.
“Okay,” he repeats.
“You’re not mad?”
“Anger serves no purpose.”
I slide a look back at the workroom. “What were you doing here?”
“Being the good guy.”
“Good guys don’t say things like that.”
He doesn’t reply out loud.
But I hear myself in my own head claiming to have never masturbated while thinking about him.
Which is the truth.
It is.
So maybe he’s telling the truth.
“You want to get married?” he says.
“Want? God, no. I have awful taste in men. But I wouldn’t mind if my grandmother believed I was married.”
He looks back at the workroom too.
Then at me once more. “Okay.”
“Okay? What does that even mean,okay?”
“I’ll marry you. Next weekend. Like you said.”
If I were capable of breathing, I’d be choking again.
But I’m beyond bodily functions working like they’re automatically supposed to.
“Staged,” he adds. “Not for real.”
“Why would you agree to fake marry me?”
“Family’s gonna family. Have to occasionally out-family them.”
That’s a bullshit answer and we both know it. “Do you have a secret X-rated comic book collection? Do you bet on illegal hamster races? Is your long-term life plan to cozy up to rich old ladies to get yourself countless inheritances while keeping people like me on the side for fun and sex? Wait. Am I the old lady?Am I the old lady?”
He doesn’t answer.
I suck in a long breath through my nose and look up at the ceiling tiles. “He’s not saying anything. Of course he’s not answering.”
“Have my own money, rarely think about hamsters, and for the comic books—is yes or no the right answer? Could see that going either way.”
“Any other time and place, I’d agree with you. Today, no is the right answer.”
