Maybe he was only nice and respectful because he was in a relationship, and in his mind, I could never love him. No stakes. Nothing real could come from this. Maybe he’d even gotten a kick out of imagining me and Ash together.
“We are friends,” he said.
I shook my head. Friendship wasn’t like this. I wanted him.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe you just have a hard time recognizing it, since you don’t seem to have a ton of them," he said.
I snorted and clenched my fists. So much for Mr. Nice Guy.
“I’m not scared of being alone, Sal. I keep my circle small to protect myself,” I snapped. “I'm not some desperate people-pleaser who'd hook up with someone just to make them happy.”
He blinked and staggered as if I’d slapped him. “I didn’t.”
He could be lying. Or maybe, like me, he’d been lonely.
I gripped the brim of my hat, something in my chest twisting painfully tight. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to believe…in people. Or systems. Or anything.”
Why should love be any different?
And yet, I wanted it to be. Even if he wasn’t the guy for me. Or more likely, I wasn’t the one for anybody. But with him, there’d been hope that one day I could be.
Sal’s searing gaze branded my chest. “You can believe in me.”
I wished I could. I lowered my head. “So, do you want to date me or not?”
He gestured widely and paced. “I don't know. I want someone who actually appreciates me, Z. Someone to laugh with, someone who keeps things exciting, but doesn’t need to make a scene or expect me to buy them extravagant things. Hopefully, someone who values family. And friends. Someone who's actively rooting for happiness. Marriage. Kids. The whole thing…with me.”
“And that isn’t me?”
He shrugged and gripped his beer to take another swig.
No, it wasn’t me. I was a clingy, misanthropic shut-in. I burrowed farther into my damaged fleece.
Our relationship was almost like the drone incident: unexpected sparks turned to dumpster flames. He threw it away as a lost cause. I clung to the stupid idea that everything was fine, including this ratty jacket. At least now, I could recognize when something was worth salvaging. Like a friendship. Or pride.
My heart thrashed like a rogue limb. I trained my gaze on his wild shirt and steadied my voice to stop myself from crying or running off again. “I came here to ask you on a date to the arcade, but maybe I need to get some actual therapy, and you…well, I won’t presume what you need to do.”
He had a life. Friends. Family. Exes. He could ask any of them for advice. He didn’t need me.
I tipped my cap to him and tweaked my cheeks. “Thanks for letting me hug your turkey.”
Maybe one day, I’d be strong enough to open my heart to someone without it breaking.
30
Glare
I stared at my laptop, not sure when one gameplay video transitioned to the next. My phone pinged and broke the trance.
My heart rocketed. Was it Sal?
He’d wiped his mouth and excused himself from our conversation at the bar. I’d stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before leaving because I had no idea if he’d come back, and I had no intention of standing there while Janice frowned at me from a distance. Maybe he liked judgmental girls. It balanced his puppy dog tendency to like everybody.
I scowled and chucked my phone onto the bed. It went exactly as I should’ve expected: a mess.
His advice sucked. So did love. Or whatever this was. An unrequited crush?
