“Exactly.” I’m grateful he’s seeing the difference. “I don’t know how to explain it other than ... we’re both free. I’m free to be me.”
“What are you, Marlo Thomas now?” Dane says.
I snort. “It’s insane. I know it’s insane. But I can say anything to J, and he to me.”
“So even though you want to get it on with Eli, you’re not in that headspace since you’re about to meet this other man?” Kwan summarizes.
“Get. It. On?” Dane laughs. “Kwan, come on, I know you’re a geezer, but that’s a lot even for you.”
“I’m trying to think of a polite way to describe whatever casual mores your set has.” He pockets the ball he was aiming for and gleefully turns to smirk at Dane.
“You’ll figure it out,” Tom says, patting me again to the point where I’m starting to feel like a puppy whose owner wants them to feel like it’s okay that they’ve made everything a mess. “Just follow your heart.”
“And not your loins,” Kwan snickers.
“‘Loins’? Now you’re just fucking with me,” Dane says.
Kwan shrugs, clearly enjoying getting Dane agitated. Maybe there’s something to it, since he’s ahead in this game.
“Nothing is happening with Eli,” I say. “I know what I want. Just dealing with what’s ahead when I go to London is enough drama for me. Eli is my friend, and you don’t have to read anything else into it.”
The waitress comes back and hands us all new beers. I take mine and lean up against the wall, my stomach churning and probably not in need of more alcohol, but that’s what it’s going to get.
It’s confusing, conflating Eli and J like this. I should be entirely focused on seeing J in just a few days. Why does it stir something up in me every time I think about Eli? How can I feel this strongly about two different people?
It’s all swimming and swirling in my mind, and I wish I wasn’t heading into this trip feeling so confused. I shouldn’tbeconfused. I know what’s real with J. Eli is a friend who acts irrationally, for both good and bad—creating this mess about the roof and then apparently paring it back is just the perfect example. What’s he playing at?
But as I take another sip of my beer, I refocus on my friends. I’m here to have a relaxing evening, and in a few days I’m going to meet J. That’s what I’m focusing on.
That’s what Ishouldbe focusing on.
Chapter 22
When I get back to my apartment around midnight, after Dane has thoroughly whipped Kwan in several games of pool, I notice a piece of paper taped to my door.
I have a surprise for you! Come by my place whenever you’re back (Doesn’t matter how late).
—Eli
Well, there go my attempts to ignore Eli and focus on everything else.
The walkshavebeen normal since the biking incident and the plaque-evening weirdness. We’ve slotted back into our morning George routine, and there’s nothing tension-filled about an early stroll with a cranky dog.
But I haven’t gone to his apartment in a while. There’s something so much closer about being alone inside. Outside, in the thrum of the city, we’re two data points in a larger system. Inside, in apartments and apparently elevators, is where I get into trouble with him. Inside is where I get confused. And as we discussed—perhaps a littletoomuch this evening—I don’t need any confusion.
But I can’t ignore a note like that. Not only would that seem weird but also I’m not immune to the promise of a surprise.
I walk downstairs and knock on the door. After a few short moments, it opens with vigor. Eli looks deliciously excited, like a kid in a candy store.
“Okay, you’ll never guess what I have,” he says, pulling me inside and looking giddier by the minute.
“A problem with illicit substances?”
He admonishes me with a look. “No.I’m just excited.”
My lips curl into a smile. “I can see that.” But as much as I’m intrigued by his uncharacteristic delight, something on the table is distracting me. “Are those black-and-white cookies?”
“Oh.” He turns, like he’s remembering something almost as exciting. “Yes, I made these.” He grabs one and hands it over to me. They’re not warm anymore, but the icing hasn’t hardened, as though he just made them and then left them to set.
