I hated relying on others to get by, but this year had been extreme. I was gonna let the mama’s boy in me bask in the assistance.
“All right, fine…” He shifted in his seat again and glanced at his watch. “To circle back on your new house. Is it possible to see some pictures? I’m kinda curious.”
I pulled out my phone and went to my photo album. “I’ve mostly taken photos of cracks and dents I gotta take care of, but there should be a few of the exterior.”
I extended the phone to him, and he sat back with it.
His eyebrows hitched a fraction, and he flicked me a quick glance before returning his attention to the pictures.
Say you love it and want to move in.
Obviously, that wasn’t happening, but fuck my life, I needed him to want it.
“You bought a house that looks like the ones we saw in Provincetown,” he stated.
Yup and yup.
“The kind of house I said was my dream to live in,” he pressed.
“Huh…yeah, that rings a bell,” I bullshitted.
“I…” He swallowed and flipped through the pictures, then started shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say. You actually—I mean.” He blew out a breath, clenched his jaw, and returned the phone. “I can’t fucking believe you.”
Whoa, what?
“Wait, what’s happening right now?” I frowned, confused, and pocketed my phone. “If you’re getting so worked up, maybe you should get over yourself and move in—give us another try.”
He shook his head again. “Of all the damn houses, you had to pick the one I used as a backdrop to describe our future together on our two-year anniversary.”
Okay, so he wasn’t even addressing my suggestion.
“You’re not the only one who likes that house,” I replied defensively. Was he seriously pissy about the architectural style? Did he think I could pick and choose freely on Zillow? I was on a damn budget. I would’ve bought the house if it’d been ranch-style or English fucking cottage too.
At this point, he was shaking his head more than a bobblehead, and he was evidently done. He grabbed his food container and rose to his feet.
“I have to get back to work soon,” he said stiffly.
I knew what that meant. He was politely telling me to fuck off.
I was at a loss, but I was also too annoyed and tired to give a shit. He was overreacting.
“Whatever. I’m done here anyway.” I got up and headed straight for the door.
A few weeks later
Arlington
Nathan Riley
Why fucking bother? You know it won’t last.
I brushed my thumb over the screen again and reread Eli’s text.
Just thinking about you, Sir! Hope you’re having a great day. (I miss you.)
I felt like a fraud.
And he deserved better. He deserved someone who didn’t need to set reminders to text his so-called boyfriend.
