I could fill a notebook—hell, a Google Drive—with everything I notice about Drew Larney: the way his hair falls over one eye when he’s tired, the constellation of freckles on the back of his neck, the way he chews on his pinky nail when he’s nervous (which isn’t often, but I catch it sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking). It’s pathological, the way I collect these details. But even now, sitting here as his default lunch date, I know I’ll never be anything more.
“So, what’s the deal with this Trevor guy?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “Is he an ongoing thing?”
Drew pauses mid-bite, and something flickers across his face too fast to read. “Nah. Ancient history. Just funny running into him, you know? In his little office with his little desk, trying to be all professional when the last time I saw him he was—” He cuts himself off, grinning. “You don’t need any more of those details.”
I do, though. I need every single one to torture myself with later and add Trevor Banks to the long list of people who’ve had Drew in ways I never will.
“Besides,” Drew continues, polishing off my sandwich, “I’m not doing the relationship thing right now. Too much drama.”
“Right.” I force myself to nod because this is a normal conversation with a friend, not something that is slowly killing me. “Keep it casual.”
“Exactly. No strings, no expectations, no feelings.” He says it like a mantra, as though it’s something he’s reminded himself of enough times for it to become the truth. “Just fun.”
Fun.What a bitter, silly word.Funis what Drew has with other people.Funis Trevor Banks and all the others I’ve watched him collect and discard like baseball cards.
What we have isn’t fun. It’s friendship, which means I get to sit here and listen to him talk about other people’s mouths while mine stays firmly shut.
“You know what would cheer you up?” Drew hunches over the table, his expression lighting up with that familiar spark that always means trouble. “We should get the guys together this weekend and do something stupid.”
“Stupider than the Polar Bear Plunge?”
“Different stupid. Like…naked snow angels.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Naked ice skating?”
“Drew, no.”
“Ooh!” He snaps his fingers. “Strip poker tournament. Winner gets to make the losers do naked snow angels.”
“Why do all of your ideas involve nudity?” I laugh.
“Because nudity equals comedy gold.” He grins, and it’s the most angelic thing I’ve laid witness to. “Plus, have you seen our friends? Gerard’s?—”
“If you say anything about Gerard’s ass, I’m leaving.”
He throws a fry at me. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Monroe. I was going to mention his penis.”
The irony of Drew Larney telling me to get my mind out of the gutter is not lost on me. But this is what he does—deflects with humor and turns everything into a joke. It’s armor, I think; though I’m not sure what he’s protecting himself from.
“Fine,” I concede. “Regular poker. With clothes. And beer.”
“Deal.” He extends his hand across the table, and I take it, trying not to notice how perfectly our hands fit together. His thumb brushes across my knuckles before he lets go. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I blink twice, swallow hard, and force air through my suddenly dry throat. “I should get going. Ryan wants to watch a documentary about the Zapruder film.”
“Zapruder film?” Drew makes a face. “Is that some sort of exotic porno?”
I stare dumbfounded. “Did you pay attention in history class?”
“Nah. Too busy thinking about hooking up with one of the cheerleaders.”
Shaking my head, I slide out of the booth, tossing money on the table for our food. Drew waves it away, but I insist. “I invited you—I’m paying.”
“Such a gentleman.” He stands too, stretching in a way that makes his sweatshirt ride up. I catch a glimpse of his hip bones and stare down at the floor. “This is why you’re my favorite, Jacky.”
The nickname makes my stomach flip. Nobody else calls me that. It’s his, like so many things about our friendship that are special and specific but also not enough.
We walk out together, and Drew huddles closer, using me as a windbreak. I let myself have this tiny pocket of time where he needs me, even if it’s solely for warmth.
