“I’m tempted,” Jamie says, “but I’m trying to be a better person and I just don’t think Simon would like it if I kissed you.”
Simon doesn’t like hearing that, largely because it’s true. Maybe it’s some old residual jealousy at seeing Jamie with someone else, but Simon feels hot and anxious at the sight of Charlie’s hand resting on the counter near Jamie’s hip.
Charlie takes a full step backward. “He said you weren’t together anymore.”
“We aren’t.”
“But he wants to be. Or you want to be.”
“No, it’s definitely not that.”
“Oh,” Charlie says, “he just wouldn’t want you to hook up with me because he doesn’t like me.”
Jamie opens his mouth and shuts it almost immediately, then tilts his head to the side. “No,” he says slowly, drawing the syllable out, “not that either.”
Before Simon can figure out what Jamie means, he decides that it’s time to make his exit. None of this is meant for his ears. He slips back out to the patio and hopes nobody notices him.
“I think I nearly kissed Charlie? Or something like that?” Jamie says as they walk home. They’d taken rideshares earlier, but it’s too nice a night to get a Lyft for a five-minute walk, even if it’s uphill the whole way to Simon’s house.
“Why are you telling me?” Simon keeps remembering how Jamie saidSimon wouldn’t like it, and how he’d known right away that Jamie was right. But then why tell Simon about it?
Out of the corner of Simon’s eye he sees Jamie turn his head to look at him, sharp. “Because I tell you everything? Besides, better to get it out in the open. Especially if it’s something that could turn toxic, you know?”
Simon thinks of all the things he isn’t telling Jamie—from how he’s leaving the show to the way he feels on edge and twisted up when he sees his dishes stacked the wrong way in the cabinet. The knowledge that he’s disappointing people is nothing new; even disappointing Jamie is nothing new.
They step into the street to avoid a bougainvillea whose branches are spilling across the sidewalk. It’s late enough that the neighborhoodis almost perfectly quiet, except for the chirp of crickets and the distant hum of traffic. The air is heavy with jasmine.
“It wouldn’t be toxic,” Simon says. “I mean—you don’t need my permission or whatever.” None of it feels like the truth, but he wants it to be.
“It’s too messy, even for me. Fucking my best friend’s work nemesis?” Jamie puts air quotes aroundwork nemesis, like it isn’t perfectly accurate. “If he were the man of my dreams, I’d probably do it anyway, let’s be honest. But for a hookup? Big dumb golden retrievers aren’t even my type. Not worth it.”
Jamie’s actual type is emotionally stingy and kind of mean, which is how he and Jamie got together in the first place.
They’re in Simon’s driveway now but he doesn’t want to go inside. Some things are easier to say in the dark, side by side. “I know I’m not a picnic to live with. Or be near. Or—anything, probably. Just—thanks.”
Jamie leans over and smacks a messy kiss on Simon’s cheek. “Where’d that all come from?”
“I just—the past few months—” Simon doesn’t know how to end that sentence that isn’t a monologue of whining. He reaches out, just a little, from some sad old belief that a hug will make things better. He lets his hand drop, then sticks it in his pocket.
“Charlie’s more of a rabid wolverine than a golden retriever,” Simon says, and Jamie laughs.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Simon wakes to the sound of clattering coming from his kitchen. He finds Jamie using the stand mixer that Simon keeps forgetting he owns. Gobs of batter are all over the counter. Simon averts his eyes.
“I’m making pancakes,” Jamie announces. “I don’t even like pancakes.”
Neither does Simon, but he takes one anyway and leans against a clean edge of the counter to eat it.
“So, I fucked up,” Jamie says.
“Oh?” All Simon can think is that even though it’s only nine o’clock in the morning, Jamie’s somehow gotten back together with his ex.
“I told Charlie that I told you what happened last night, and now he thinks I outed him to you. I didn’t want to tell him that you already knew.”
“If something had happened between the two of you, did he think you wouldn’t tell me?” Simon asks. He has some experience with super closeted actors. For a while, Simon was sort of seeing this guy from his old show, but even he wouldn’t have expected Simon to keep him a secret from his best friend.
“I know! Maybe it was tacky of me to tell him that I told you, butI was thinking that—well, anyway, I wasn’t trying to stir up drama, I swear.” He looks abashed, and Simon believes him.
