So, I eat the crackers.They’re dry, which means I have to drink some of the water.My stomach settles.My head starts to feel a little better.When the soup is ready, he ladles some into a mug.He’s very careful.Doesn’t spill a drop.He’s a big guy, but everything about him is so contained, so controlled.I honestly don’t think he knows how good he and John-Henry are for each other.He’s got to be one hell of a fuck.
And then I’ve got my soup, and he folds his arms, looming over me, and says, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“How much time do you have?”
“Knock it the fuck off, Gray.You’ve had your shit together for a long time now.What the fuck was that debacle last night?Things had gotten a little too quiet, so you decided to treat everyone to a public self-immolation?”
I sip some soup.It’s salty and has only the barest hint of chicken, but it’s surprisingly good, so I break off a crust of toast and dunk it.“What’d John-Henry tell you?”
“He told me you invited him and Peterson to that outreach event last night, and he got there, and the first thing he saw was you and Sam all over each other.”
“We weren’t all over each other.”
“Are you honestly telling me that you think John could stand in the same room as you and not know in five seconds if you’re fucking someone?And Sam?Jesus Christ, Gray, that kid practically vibrated every time you flirted with him.”
“Okay, right?Right?”I can’t help my voice from rising with a kind of grim satisfaction, even though it makes my head start pounding again.“It wasn’t just me.He was—” I break off, not sure how to say it.
Dryly, Emery says, “He was asking for it?”
“No, bro.But there was a vibe, right?”
“Of course there was a vibe.He’s intensely attracted to you.And you can’t take your eyes off him.It’s a miracle you didn’t end up fucking sooner.That’s not the point.The point is you’ve made a dog’s fucking dinner out of this whole situation.Fake dating, Gray?Really?Like this is—what?Some kind of fucking romance novel?Please explain to me how, in your extremely limited capacity, you thought this wasnotgoing to implode eventually.”
“It was supposed to be to convince a donor that I was, you know, reliable.”
“And how’d that turn out?”
“Real fucking great.I puked on his shoes; I’m sure he’s writing a check right now.”I dip some more toast in the soup.“Look, it wasn’t supposed to be…complicated.”
Emery makes a disgusted noise, but he doesn’t say anything.He runs a cleaning cloth over the counter again, even though it doesn’t need it, and then he stands there.
“It’s all over,” I say.It’s easier, somehow, hearing it out loud.“WISP.It’s done.I mean, nobody’s going to help fund it now, not when the guy running it got blackout drunk at his own outreach event.”
“After a humiliating public fight with his boyfriend.”
I’m too tired for more than a dirty look, and I can’t even keep that up for long.“I thought I was doing something good, you know?I thought I was…better.And here I am, fucking up everything, just like the good old days.”
Emery swishes the cloth around a few more times.Finally, like he can’t help himself, he says, “You know this is what happens literallyeverytime, don’t you?”
“Huh?”
“They always think it’s not going to get complicated.And then they develop feelings for each other.And the feelings turn out to be real.And that only makes their situation more complicated.”He waits, like I’m supposed to say something, and when I don’t, frustration bleeds into his words.“It’s literally the plot of every fake dating story ever.She needs a fiancé to take to a family Christmas party.He needs a girlfriend because his brother’s getting married.He has to see his ex at a friend’s wedding, and he doesn’t want to go alone, so—”
“Yes, yeah, I get it, Emery.Not really the point.”
“You could have asked John.He has at least ten different books with that same tired old formula.”
“I said not the point!”
It’s hard to tell with him.Sometimes, it’s like he’s almost smiling.
I drink some more soup.I finish my toast.I’m looking out the window at the spring day, and I feel so tired.Although I guess a lot of that has to do with the fact I’m almost thirty, so go ahead and put me in the fucking ground.
“You know, Gray, peoplecanchange,” Emery says, and the sudden words startle me.“But we don’t change all that much.And we certainly don’t change fast.We try to be better versions of ourselves.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like a hard reset, because even the better version of myself is pretty fucked up.”I want to hold the rest of the words back, but they boil up.“I mean, I tried.I really fucking tried.I didn’t fuck around.I kept my head on straight.I’m so sick of fucking up.I’m tired of hurting people I care about.And here I am, fucking everything up and hurting people I care about.”
“Well, that’s probably because you didn’t actually change all that much,” Emery says.
